


The rupture of Dean Winchester

by elisa_anya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Butt Plugs, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Dominant Castiel, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Bela Talbot/Dean Winchester, Name-Calling, Public Sex, Smut, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_anya/pseuds/elisa_anya
Summary: In the heat of the moment during a match, Dean and Castiel, leaders of rival teams, make a bet one of them foolishly doesn’t take too seriously: whoever loses will become the boy toy of the captain of the winning team. But unlike Dean, Castiel fully intends to go through with the bet and have the famous ladies' men Dean Winchester submit to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tags will change as we advance with the story. I intend on keeping this short, just 10 chapters. Loads of smut, some fluff as we progress. There's no fixed posting schedule but I won't take too long in between chapters because they're not going to be very long.

"Open wide, Dean."

Castiel smiles down at Dean, all smug and confident, his dick in hand. Dean will never admit it out loud, barely admits it to himself in the first place, but Castiel looks very beautiful with his hair all wet, rosy cheeks from the shower’s heat and water dripping down his naked torso, no matter how much Dean would like to wipe that obnoxious, satisfied grin off his stupidly well proportioned face.

Dean frowns up at him in protest, at least trying to look bitter or resentful, but truthfully his heart is beating rapidly against his rib cage with a newfound sort of excitement he didn’t know he was capable of. There on his knees in the bathroom floor of the players’ changing room, he should feel ashamed of himself, of the position he is in, of what he’s about to do, and maybe he does a little, but he’s also undeniably turned on against his desire, his own erection making his jeans uncomfortable. Castiel stands in front of him after showering, proudly naked and already erect, wasting no time to make use of his reward after the match.

When they made the bet, Dean hadn’t really thought they'd go through with it, whoever won. At the time he’d been fairly certain his team was going to win, and they almost did, yet still he would have never _really_ made Castiel pleasure him for two months. After all, Dean Winchester didn’t sleep with men, never had, he was a renowned ladies’ men on campus. In the heat of the moment, it was just something he said, a stupid move born out of arrogance while Castiel’s team was losing. The opposite team’s captain didn’t only agreed to the bet but raised the stakes from Dean’s original proposal, which had been one month, to _two_ ; whoever lost would be used to pleasure the other for two whole months. When Castiel shook his hand in the field, Dean realised his mistake when he saw the hunger, the intensity with which Castiel looked back at him, the predatory gleam in his eyes. At first he’d thought his rival was just trying to intimidate him and throw him off, but soon after the match was over, Novak pulled him into the bathroom and made sure Dean realised he was dead serious.

Dean had also never thought he’d actually feel turned on by a guy, but there he was, feeling the blood rushing downwards with Cas' dick mere centimeters away from his face. He wasn’t sure what it was; Castiel’s dominant attitude, the blue eyes, the rush of adrenaline he was getting from not knowing what the fuck to do or say, or the fact that he could still hear people out in the hallways from where they were about to have public sex, but there was something he found very exciting from the whole situation.

Unable to hold Castiel’s unwavering stare, he looks back down at the pink cock that is front of him. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and opens his mouth.

"Wider," the winner orders. Dean doesn't need to look at him to know he’s smirking.

Trying not blush like a schoolgirl, he obeys. A bet is a bet and Dean Winchester is no coward, he’s a man of his word and he won’t back down, not even from this.

The tip of Castiel’s dick touches his lips and slowly penetrates his mouth. His heart hammering in his ears, he frowns in concentration while his mouth moves forward to suck Castiel's erection. The skin is soft against his lips, the precum salty and not entirely gross to melt into his mouth. He'd imagined it'd be worse, to be honest, that he'd be disgusted by the whole thing, but when his tongue licks the underside of Novak’s cock and the sounds of Castiel's soft sighs and moans reach his ears, it does nothing but encourage him to move more, suck harder, not paying attention to the pornographic noises he's not able to help making.

Castiel’s hands come down to settle behind Dean’s head. He grips Dean’s short hair rough enough to pull from it but gentle enough not to hurt him, and leads him back and forwards as he thrusts into his mouth. Dean just takes it as best as he can, praying that his gag reflexes won’t have him puking all over the dick in his mouth, and trying to mind his teeth. Castiel’s ragged breathing echoes in the empty walls as he sets a fast pace and make Dean harder and harder. He’s been used before, he’s been manhandled by women, pushed around, tied up, but it never felt like this, he never felt truly _vulnerable_ and out of control. He’s completely at Castiel’s mercy, couldn’t even protest if he tried, but he doesn’t want to anyway. With his hands balled up into fists resting over his thighs, he’s just trying to fight back the urge to touch himself. This isn’t about him, after all, this is about Castiel, his pleasure, and Dean’s too confused to jack off to what’s happening anyway. One thing was to pay the price of his dumb bet, that was just being honorable; another was to actually enjoy himself.

Novak doesn’t even try to warn him when he cums, he intends to make Dean swallow, there’s no argument there. His breathing comes out in short breaths when he reaches his climax, his grip around Dean’s hair tightens.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans through gritted teeth, rolling his hips forward in small, sharp movements.

When the hot cum fills his mouth, Dean can’t get it all down in one go. He chokes on it and the dick in his mouth, and just when he thinks he’s not going to be able to take it without pulling back, Castiel pulls his head away with a satisfied sigh. In an unexplainable and unreasonable attack of pride, Dean tries to swallow most of it down, feeling the viscous cum falling down his throat, but coughs and feels a string of cum on his lower lip and chin. Castiel chuckles and cleans it with his dumb, wiping the cum on the towel that hangs from his shoulder.

“You’ll learn to get it all down by the time I’m through with you,” he tells Dean as he pulls his towel from his shoulder and wraps it around his waist.

While Novak turns away, Dean has a moment to gather himself. He tries to control his breathing first, feels his cheeks burning hot and red as he regains oxygen. He’s embarrassed though and the heat doesn’t leave his ears. He gets up and fidgets, not knowing what to do, taking one step towards the door and then one back again; should he get out or should he wait for further instructions? Is this what it’s going to be like, being Castiel’s bitch, a whole lot of wondering and feeling like a damn virgin all over again?

His boner wasn’t subduing either, by the way, and even though it was childish, Dean didn’t want the other to see it, didn’t want him to know he was turned on by what they’d done.

Castiel goes over to the bench where he’d left his duffel bag and sits down. He moves things around until he finds a notebook and a pen. He scribbles on the paper quickly, then rips the page in a quick movement and holds it out to Dean.

“Here, this is my number. I want you to text me your schedule for the entire week. I’m not going to make you miss any classes or football practises, or work if you work, but any other time of the day is fair game. If you’re with your friends and I call you, you come. If I want to come over, wherever you are, I do. Whenever I want, whatever I want, I get it. Got it?”

Dean takes the paper and huffs with indignation.

_Who the fuck does he think he is?_

_And why does he turn me on so much?_

“How do you know I’ll text you?” Dean asks. He could just never text Castiel and there wouldn’t be a thing he’d be able to do about it.

“You’ve just swallowed my cum, Dean,” Castiel smirks, shrugging with easiness. He seems relaxed, his shoulders at ease, and Dean feels an unexplainable stab of pride knowing he made his rival cum hard. He kept his word. “If you weren’t willing to accept the terms of the bet, you wouldn’t have gone down on your knees, you would have told me to fuck off. I admire your determination to see this through. Then again, I’m not going to be the only one benefiting from this.”

“I’m not gay,” Dean snaps without thinking.

Novak only looks up at him with an eyebrow raised. The corners of his lips turn up and Dean fights the urge to repeat himself.

Castiel doesn’t say anything else on the matter, though, he lets it slip like a person who knows they’re right and there’s no point arguing. Instead he turns back to his bag and produces a key.

“This is the key to my apartment. I’ll text you the address when you give me your schedule. I might ask you to meet me there a couple of times. My job is stressful, your mouth’s just what I need to unwind after a long day. You do need training, but it wasn’t a bad start.”

Dean feels his stomach twisting in knots and the heat rushing back to his cheeks, his dick pulsing inside his pants. He takes the key without a word and puts in his pocket.

“Can I go, then?” he asks and immediately regrets it; he’s given Castiel too much power already, he doesn’t need to perpetuate his rival’s dominance, but he doesn’t think there’s anything he’ll be able to do about it anyway. Castiel’s a top, Dean barely knows him but he can just _feel_ it, and he’s going to order Dean around for the following two months.

And Dean feels a thrill rushing under his skin at the thought.

“You may. I’ll see you real soon, Dean.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out to be a little longer than I'd intended. I haven't proofread it because it's super late, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you'd like to help me by pointing them out so I can correct them tomorrow, be my guest.

Dean doesn’t feel himself relax at any moment since that Friday night, he’s on edge all weekend, waiting for something to happen. He wakes up feeling restless on Saturday morning and hesitates before he takes the phone from the nightstand to check if he’s got any messages. Then he remembers he’s supposed to text Castiel first. For a couple of seconds he entertains the idea of not going through with it; he could just not contact Novak ever again and nothing bad would happen. His rival doesn’t have any proof of their agreement or what they did last night, it’d be his word against Dean’s if he tried to out him and he knows people would have a hard time believing he gave The Angel’s captain, basically his archenemy if he allows himself to be dramatic, a blowjob in the bathroom on campus. More like he fucked Dean’s face, actually… _If_ Castiel even decided to go as far as to telling people to punish him in the first place, which Dean didn’t think he would. They barely know each other, have crossed paths only a few times in years, both in and out of the field, but Dean likes to think he’s a good judge of character and he doesn’t get a douchebag vibe from Novak. Cocky as fuck? He sure is. Dominant weirdo? Apparently, yes. But gossipy bitch who goes around outing people? No, he didn’t seem to be like that.

But even if Castiel didn’t tell anyone, if there were no consequences at all, Dean would still know he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain. What kind of sore loser makes a bet and then refuses to pay up when they lose? He’d live in shame if he backed out of the bet now, wouldn’t be able to face Novak again in the field with dignity. If Dean was one thing it was proud, stupidly so.

So he texts Castiel his whole schedule. It shouldn’t change for the duration of the bet, except if Bobby asked him to cover a different shift on the auto shop. His weekends are fully free and he fidgets at the thought of Castiel summoning him right away as a consequence, his fingers hovering over the screen in hesitation before he mans up and writes:

> _free on the weekends._

> _Mondays:_ _football practise until 11 am,_ _class from 6 pm to 9.30 pm_

 _> Tuesday:_ _classes all morning,_ _work until 5 pm_

 _ > Wednesday: F.P. until 11 am, _ _classes from 11.30 to 4 pm,_ _work 4.30 pm to 8.30 pm_

_ > Thursday = Tuesday _

_> Friday:_ _F.P. until 11 am,_ _class until 1.30 pm,_ _work until 6 pm_

He presses send and waits. He’s painfully aware of everything for a moment, of the noises his roommates are making all the way from the kitchen downstairs, to the weird feeling of being both hot and cold on the surface on his skin, or the tingling sensation in the tip of his fingers. After a moment he catches himself doing it and puts the phone down; Castiel will reply when he can, it’s not like Dean to wait around for people by the phone.

Not knowing whether Novak might show up any minute at the house Dean lives in with his friends or request that he goes over to his apartment has Dean frozen with the anxiety that the uncertainty produces in him. They might see each other soon or it might be a few days, he has no idea, but as he goes about his day he is always aware of the weight of his phone on his pocket, he's at all moments alert in case it buzzes with another message from the guy that owns him for two months. He's distracted, unable to hold a conversation with his roommates or pay too much attention to them. Everyone assumes he is in a mood for losing the game last night and though he is still pissed about it, it doesn't affect his mood half as much as the prospect of Castiel calling him has his stomach twisting in knots. He let's the other young men believe that's just it though, that last night’s failure is the reason why he's quiet and withdrawn, and he accepts the comfort of his best friend and teammate Benny, who tells him they gave them hell even if they lost the game. If only Benny knew Dean lost much more than a game…

When Novak finally replies, it’s only with his address, but it still throws Dean off balance. Being around the guys makes Dean extra nervous, he’s got the stupid fear that they might be able to hear what he’s thinking if he doesn’t manage to stop remembering the events of the previous night over and over again in their presence, so before noon he makes himself a sandwich and hides away in his bedroom.

Charlie texts him soon after lunch and Dean jumps when the phone buzzes inside his pocket. His heartbeat accelerates more than he'd like to admit and maybe, just maybe, his hands shake a little, only to fully relax when he sees the text is from his friend.

<  _Need moral support while I do a boring ass assignment. You free?_

 _Am I?_ , Dean wonders. What if he goes and Castiel suddenly calls him? How is he going to explain to Charlie that he _must_ leave? The gossipy ginger isn't the type of friend who respects privacy and let's Dean do his things without meddling and asking a dozen questions. It's his fault too, he always indulges her and tells her all about the girls he dates, and by now she is used to having full access to his private life.

But Dean realises he's being ridiculous, he can't sit around the house all day, for two months, in case Novak decides he needs him. He'll have to think of some good excuse to disappear for a bit if his presence is requested at some point, but Castiel only owns his ass, not his entire life.

Charlie's presence doesn't do anything but make Dean even more restless. He feels the weight of his juicy secret pressing down his shoulders and fears she's going to be able to tell he is hiding something, and the thing is Dean both wishes he could talk to someone about it and he doesn’t ever want anyone to find out. The library is dead quiet, even more so on a damn Saturday afternoon, and for the first time the silence is more annoying than helpful. Dean's alone with his thoughts, his memories and doubts, and his voice inside his head is too loud in the silent hall to allow him to concentrate in his studies. How is he supposed to concentrate in math and other boring stuff when the memory of Castiel looking down at him in triumph with his dick out is burnt forever into Dean's eyes?

And, okay, maybe the sight was _a little_ erotic, maybe he gets a tiny bit flustered remembering it, but Dean blames porn for that; he's seen and jacked off to that scene between a man and a woman a thousand times, he's been wired to react to it positively by now. It's not Castiel, it can't be, he's not into guys, never has been.

 _Except for Gunner Lawless, but that doesn't count,_ he thinks a little guiltily now about his favorite wrestler from childhood. Dean had his posters up for years growing up, might have accidentally looked his way once or twice while he masturbated in his teenage years. He took the poster down after that.

Charlier throws a tiny ball of paper at his face.

“Dean, stop daydreaming and study. You've been in the same page for 15 minutes.”

Dean sighs and sits back on his chair. “It's too quiet here, I feel like my mind is screaming in my ears. Can we go somewhere else?”

“But you like the quiet to study.”

“Not today.”

“Are you brooding over last night’s match?” she teases him as they both put their belongings back in their backpacks. “I know you wanted to beat Novak real bad, but he got you good.”

Dean feels his cheeks colour at the mention of that name.

“That he did,” he mumbles almost to himself.

The couple of friends go to a little coffee shop which is packed with students and sit together in the only table left. Usually Dean hates noisy places when he wants to study but today it helps, it makes the voice in his head a little easier to ignore. He actually gets some of his readings done, but that night when he is alone in his room once again, his mind is back to screaming at him and making his blood pressure go up the roof with nerves.

 _Tomorrow_ , it warns him, _tomorrow for sure_.

But Castiel doesn't even text to check in with him on Sunday. He doesn't have to, they're not dating. In fact they're not even friends, they've been rivals for years, but for some reason he'd been expecting something different, more communication coming from the other end.

Monday comes around and football practise with his friends is the only moment since Friday night that his head is finally clear and relaxed. The physical work keeps him too busy to dwell in anything else, and he feels alive running up and down the familiar field under the sun. It's always a good way to start the week.

After having lunch with Benny, he heads to the library to meet with Charlie, just like any other Monday. Both of them have evening classes and study together for a couple of hours before them. They aren't in the same classes anymore, but have been studying together anyway since they shared the core maths courses at the beginning of their degrees and became close friends.

Slowly, as the hours go by, he worries less about Novak and more about his electromechanics assignment. Dean begins to think maybe Castiel wasn’t serious after all, maybe he was just messing with him. Or maybe their schedules don’t match at all and Castiel won’t have the time to make use of Dean...

It's 40 minutes before he usually leaves for his class when, finally, Castiel texts him.

_< Where are you? _

The blood drains from Dean's face. He throws a quick glance to see if Charlie's looking but she has her nose buried in a book that's been giving her a hard time for days now.

With shaky hands hidden under the table, he replies.

> _Library_.

Castiel's reply comes only seconds later.

_< I know the place. I'll be there in 10. _

“What?” Dean breathes out nervously. One thing was the bathroom after a game, at night, but the library, in the middle of the day? _There's no way we won't get caught_.

“Huh?” Charlie lifts her sight from the book. She looks irritated, personally offended by it.. “You said something? Please say something, save me from this book, I beg you, Dean.”

A guy two desks away shushes her aggressively and Charlie rolls her eyes at him.

“I've to go,” Dean whispers in a hurry.

“What? Why? We still have 40 mins to go.”

“I have to- hmm, meet up with someone. Real quick, before class. Sorry.”

She narrows her eyes at him and glares while Dean puts his books away.

“You're not ditching me to hook up with someone, are you?”

Dean swallows hard. “It's not like that.”

And it isn't _entirely_ a lie. If he were hooking up with someone it'd mean he's getting something from it too other than an uncomfortable boner and a small life crisis.

“You know you're my number one girl, Charlie,” he tells her more confidently and winks at her before hurrying away. The last thing he sees is his friend seeing him sneaking around with Novak.

For a moment he stands there, waiting for Castiel and looking around the parking lot. There are a lot of cars but most of them belong to people who still have classes. Other than that, there’s really not that many people left on campus at the time on a Monday. He wonders where the fuck Castiel thinks they could do stuff without getting caught, because Dean is _not_ going to get kicked out of school for public indecency just to keep his word and please Novak. It has to be somewhere at least semi-face, not _entirely_ public but close enough to please Castiel and still be able to get it to class. He knows a motel just close enough for the occasion.

He gets his phone out of his pocket and texts Novak in a rush as he hurries towards his car.

_ > Meet me at my car. Black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. _

The other’s replies comes almost immediately.

_ < I don’t know anything about cars. _

_ > Black, old beautiful car. _

It doesn’t take long for Castiel to join him in the car. Dean stops breathing for a moment when he appears by the passenger's side and knocks on the window with the back of two fingers. His hair is all over the place, like he’s already had sex with someone else that day, or maybe it’s just always like that, and he’s wearing a ridiculous trench coat over a black suit. It takes Castiel pointing at the door to make Dean realise he needs to open it for him from inside.

“Hello, Dean,” he says casually while Dean begins to sweat. He sits in the passenger seat and closes the door. “Nice to see you again.”

Dean purses his lips and nods. “Hi.”

Cas takes a deep breath and looks around with a faint smile.

“I’ve always liked this campus,” he comments nonchalantly, “but my school has a better law program.”

“You’re going to be a lawyer?”

Castiel nods and looks back again at Dean. “And you? What’s your field of study?”

“Mechanical Engineering.”

Dean revels momentarily on the impressed look on Castiel’s face but has little time to enjoy it before Cas reaches for his zipper.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks with a slightly panicked tone.

Castiel doesn’t stop unzipping his pants and looks up with an eyebrow raised. “You _do_ remember our bet, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but we’re in the middle of the parking lot.”

“There’s no one around, everyone’s either inside or in class,” Cas shrugs as he palms himself. Dean’s eyes are glued to the sight.

“We could get caught,” he stammers stupidly. “Let me drive us to a motel.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No time, I need to go soon. I promise to stop you if I see someone coming. Now come on, I want _you_ to do the work today.”

And just like that, once again, Dean Winchester is presented with a dick. His first, dumb thought is how fast Castiel manages to get hard, but then he starts feeling his own dick tingling with interest, which he blames to the adrenaline rush he’s having. He looks up at Castiel for a moment, almost as if asking for instructions, but Castiel merely looks back at him with his eyebrows raised almost challengingly.

“Fuck,” Dean mumbles, planting the palms of his hands on his thighs to rub the sweat off. He feels embarrassed and humiliated, not to mention nervous as fuck at the prospect of someone seeing them, but at the same time so turned on it’s making him dizzy.

Slowly, he leans down. He doesn’t close his eyes this time as he starts kissing Castiel’s cock. It’s almost innocent and slow, his movements unsure.

“You can do better than that, I’m sure,” Castiel encourages him, his hand coming to rest on the back of Dean’s head. He doesn’t push him down or pull from his hair this time though, only runs his fingers through it and massages his scalp. It’s almost nice in contrast to the low, authoritative tone Castiel uses when he talks to him.

Dean tells himself later that when he starts licking up and down Castiel’s cock more earnestly it’s because he wanted to get out of the parking lot fast and not because he didn’t want to let Novak down. He sucks at the head first and licks the precum off his lips, then sinks down further, taking more and more as he adjusts to the width. Castiel whispers little praises to him, his hand never leaving Dean’s head.

“Yes, that’s it. See? I knew you could do better. Use your tongue.”

Not without a little hesitation, Dean takes what he can’t yet fit into his mouth with a hand and starts pumping Cas as he sucks the rest with his mouth. He hears Cas breathing hard above him but doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t want Cas to look at him either, although he probably is. He tries to do what he knows he likes, circling the head of Novak’s cock with his tongue and sucking at it while he works with his hand on the rest on a faster pace than with his mouth. Castiel seems to enjoy it as he moves his hips in short thrusts backwards and forwards. Inside his jeans, Dean is straining himself from how hard he is.

He pulls away so he can lick up the entire length and then sinks down fast, sucking the cock in his mouth while he tries to think of breasts and not the noises Novak is making, how pretty they sound. He keeps repeating the same actions several times in a loop until he can tell Castiel is about to come. He doesn’t pull away again, knowing he will want Dean to swallow like the first time, but prepares for it and this time, when the hot cum coats his tongue and his throat, it goes down more easily. This time, he doesn’t spill anything, and for that Castiel congratulates him with more soft strokes of his hair.

"Good boy, you did very good, Dean," Castiel congratulates him with a hoarse, post-sex voice.

Deans sits up and blushes at the pet name. He frowns at Castiel like an offended child, but the rosy color of his cheeks against his freckles gives him away.

"Why do you keep calling me that? You're my age," he complains because the other option would be to admit the thrill he feels when Castiel calls him that.

While Novak zips his pants and looks at Dean dead in the eyes, he replies, "it is not a matter of age but power. We might be the same age but we don't hold the same roles in this relationship. I own you." He takes a glance down at the prominent bulge between Dean's legs and smirks. "And by the looks of it, you like it."

Blushing an even stronger shade of red, Dean covers his crotch with his hands and looks down in shame.

"It's just a natural body reaction," he claims through gritted teeth.

Castiel laughs under his breath and shakes his head. “Yes, precisely, a natural reaction to how much you like this.”

“I’m not-”

“Gay, yes, you told me. Have you ever considered you might be bisexual, at least?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow and looks at him almost challengingly. Dean takes too long to think of something to reply and before he says anything, Castiel plants a hand on his shoulder as he reaches for the door handle with the other. He squeezes Dean's shoulder in an almost comforting way before he gets out of the car.

Before walking closing it again, he leans down to look at Dean and tells him in that deep, ominous voice of his, “as much as I like your mouth, I'm going to want to move on to other things soon. The sooner you stop denying yourself the pleasure you could feel with me, the faster we can both get there. I'll see you soon, Dean.."

AIone in his car, there is nothing to distract Dean from his almost painful erection. His dick throbs under the thick fabric of his jeans. He fidgets, trying to get comfortable, but the friction only makes him hornier. He considers for a brief moment the idea of relieving himself right there and then, but discards it almost immediately; first, simply no because that's exactly what Castiel would want him to do. Secondly, he has the childish belief that if he doesn't let his body indulge, he'll stop getting like this around the guy that was his archenemy just the week before. And last but not least, going to a class with his boxers wet with cum would be awful. Been there, done that, not a good idea.

So instead of finding some relief, he starts listening to his favourite rock classics, singing out loud and trying to focus on the lyrics until his erection subdues and he can get out of the car to go to class without embarrassing himself around campus.

Dean spends the entire class thinking he is going to get a serious case of blue balls soon but he's too stubborn to masturbate to the thought of Castiel, those plump pink lips he hasn't even kissed but still haunt him, the manly moans he doesn't hold back when Dean goes down on him. And just like that, he almost gets hard again.

The rest of the week is spent with the same amount of nerves as the weekend. Novak could show up anywhere at any given moment and Dean wont get any kind of warning until the last minute. As the days go by and Castiel doesn't so much as text him, it only feeds the uneasy feeling nesting in his gut instead of easing it. The longer they're separated, the sooner Dean feels Castiel will show up, ironically.

On Thursday night, when one of his booty calls invites him to a party the following night, he agrees right away. He needs to chase instead of being chased for a change, to be in charge and in control, like he always has until a week ago. He doesn't know why he's so affected by Castiel, why he can't just do what he's asked and leave. It's not that he feels violated or forced to participate; yes, Castiel is demanding and loves to boss him around, has never really explicitly asked for consent either, but Dean knows Novak would stop if he asked him to, if he truly didn't want to continue playing this game. He feels nervous like a virgin, not a victim. He feels the anticipation of a submissive waiting for their master, not fear or repulsion. He wishes he felt repulsed, but his body feels quite the contrary. He can’t breathe properly around Castiel, can’t think straight, can’t keep control of himself, his body, his mind.

What he thinks he needs is to get laid and with a _woman_ , so on Friday night he drags Charlie and Benny to the party. He realises Castiel might call him at any moment, so he impatiently looks around waiting for Bela to show up, cursing under his breath because he knows she has a reputation for being late; she likes to keep people waiting for her.

The three story frat house is packed with people. Music is so loud he can barely hear whatever Charlie is saying. They're sitting in some stools in a corner, drinking beer and chatting. Charlie gives advice to Benny, who has only now found the courage to ask his long time crush out. Dean doesn't know what to say,  he's never been good at that dating, at least not with people he cared for. Only once he dated someone and developed feelings towards her, but things with Lisa didn't end very well. It was something about him not being able to commit enough or some sort of bullshit like that that ended in a huge fight when Dean sort of accidentally flirted with someone else in front of her.

Four beers and almost two hours later, Dean is sure Bela isn't going to show up. She's hot as hell and amazing in bed, though Dean will never tell her that, but she's also selfish and unreliable, which makes him sort of hate her. She'd only ever stood him up once before, for which he got back at her to teach him a lesson. She'd been livid that day and Dean had  thought she'd learned her lesson that day, but apparently she hadn't.

It's fine, he figures. He feels lighter, more relaxed and in sync with the party as the familiar buzz he gets from being slightly drunk soothes his mind. Charlie and Benny are great company and after a while their friends Garth, Pamela and Jo join them at the party. As the night get progressively better, he isn't too disappointed in not being able to get laid. Bela is terrible company after all and with a few beers in and some lesbian porn he figures he should be able to get off in peace at last.

At least until he sees Castiel.

He's at the opposite end of the room, wearing that suit and stupid trench- coat, which Dean now always associates to him, talking to some friends. Dean sucks in a breath when he spots him and quickly looks away as if CastieI would suddenly notice him if he stared for too long. His heart accelerates so fast he can feel it beating in his throat and the warmth he felt in his body that he associated with the alcohol now feels all about that damn boy with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

He grabs his empty but still cold bottle of beer just to have something to do with his hands and tries to fight the urge to look up only to cave embarrassingly fast. This time, Castiel is looking back at him. Dean holds his breath and waits for the other to do something; wink provocatively at him, smile obnoxiously like he knows exactly how nervous he makes Dean feel, or just wave like a normal human being, but he does neither. He just stares from a distance with an unreadable expression in his face while Dean tries not to squirm in his seat, until finally he turns back around to continue his conversation.

Dean remembers then that he needs oxygen to live and takes a breath.

Someone calls his name, bringing him back to Earth and he turns to find Jo laughing at him for trying to hook up with Bela again.

"I thought you'd said no more crazy chicks. She's the queen of crazy."

"Dean does anything for a good lay, don't you, brother?" Benny teases him and Dean doesn't know what to reply to that at all when Castiel is on his mind.

Charlie points a finger at Dean and scolds him."You need to raise your standards, get yourself someone who treat you right."

Dean rolls his eyes at that. "Don't give me that speech again."

"I'm serious! You deserve better than Talbot!" she exclaims over the music, swaying drunkenly in her seat.

Benny opens his mouth to reply something but stops to look over Dean's shoulder and before the deep, familiar voice reaches his ears, he already knows who is standing behind him.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel says.

A rush of goosebumps makes Dean shiver. He turns around to find himself almost face to face with Castiel. Without his permission, Dean's eyes end up locked in Castiel's dry lips and he licks his own in response.

Dean clears his throat and looks up at those baby blues that seem so innocent in public.

"Hmm, hi. What are you doing here?"

"It's a friend's birthday, we're celebrating. The parties in your campus are better," he explains. He acts so normal, so simple and natural that it makes Dean uneasy. He knows what he's really capable of, what he really wants.

"Damn right!"Jo cheers.

"Are you enjoying yourselves too?" Castiel asks, looking around the table and giving them small, friendly smiles. It's such a different demeanour from what Dean is used to that for a moment he feels insane, as if the entire past week was just a very weird wet dream.

Before he has a chance to reply, Pamela takes the opportunity to torture Dean some more.

"The stud here got stood up. We're keeping him company."

The blood drains from Dean's face and he looks away from Castiel, mortified.

"Really?" he laughs, amused. When Dean looks up he seems honestly entertained.  "By whom?"

"Bela Talbot. You know her?"

Castiel nods. "I do."

He plants a hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezes. Dean has a flashback to their moment in the car and is thankful it's too dark for anyone to see. "You can come over and hang out with us if you want. I am sure we'll find someone for you."

Castiel gives him one last complicit look before he excuses himself, says goodbye to Dean's friends all politely and proper, and walks away. Dean forces himself to look away and act normal while he tries to figure out what the hell just happened and how he can still feel the weight of Castiel's harn on his shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" Benny asks, looking utterly confused. "Are you two friends now?"

"No!" Dean replies a little too quickly.

"Why not? He seems nice," Garth asks with that usual innocence of his.

"He's our rival," Benny explains, sounding a little too intense. "And he's weird."

Jo rolls her eyes at him. "Don't be such a boy."

"I am with Benny in this one, though," Charlie says, then leans with her elbows on the table and adds in a dramatic tone, "I've heard some juicy rumours about him. Apparently he gets a kick out of turning straight guys gay. Watch out, Dean."

Benny snorts hard and bursts out laughing. He pats Dean's shoulder so hard he almost knocks him out to this seat.

"Yeah, no, I don't see that happening anytime soon," he laughs.

Dean laughs nervously.

A second later his phone buzzes in his pocket and he just knows it's Castiel, he'd bet his life on it, so he excuses himself and pretends he needs to find a bathroom. When he leaves his friends behind, he finally takes his phone out.

< _First floor, second door to the right. Now._

"Fuck," he mutters to himself.

The world around him dances as he hurries through the crowd. He tells himself it's because his friends will notice if he's gone for too long, because he wants this to be over quickly, not because he wants to see Castiel.

When he gets to the room, Novak is waiting for him, sitting at the edge of someone's bed. He smiles when Dean comes in, though Dean isn't sure whether he is pleased with himself or how fast Dean answered his call.

"Lock the door and kneel in front of me."

Dean wants to protest just out of principle, but finds himself unable to, so he does as he is told, taking his position between Castiel's legs.

"So you were going to sleep with Bela tonight?" he asks calmly. All the innocent charm is gone now as he stares down at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

"We're not exclusive," Dean argues in an attempt to sound defiant.

"We're not," Castiel agrees. His hands move towards his crotch and even with the party going downstairs, Dean is painfully aware of the sound of the zipper coming undone. "But you're a fool if you think you won't be thinking of me when you're with her. Now open wide, let me remind you how much you like this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this one, Cas is a good guy and Dean is a good boy.

It's all Dean can do not to touch himself when Castiel leaves the bedroom. He's painfully hard and aching for release after a very long week of having Castiel be an active agent of chaos in his life. He stays in the bedroom alone, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to will his erection down while his testicles scream at him to just please relieve the pressure already.

After minutes of trying and failing to relax, he decides to go out for a walk in the cool night to clear his head. Embarrassed of his current predicament, he keeps his head down and hurries down the hallway in case he runs into someone who will, most likely, see his erection, only to come face to face with Bela as she came up the stairs. 

As soon as their eyes meet he knows she's still in if he is. Any other day he would have turned her down out of spite for making him wait that damn long without at least warning him with a text message that she was going to be  _ hours  _ late, but that wasn't just any night and he needed to cum days ago. When Bela opens her mouth, Dean just dives in for a hungry kiss without waiting for her to finish or even start talking; he hates most of what comes out of her mouth anyway. 

Bela seems surprised at first but doesn't try to pull Dean away. She throws her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss as Dean presses their bodies closer.

When she feels his erection against her lower abdomen, she breaks the kiss, looking all smug and pleased with herself, and says, "well, someone missed me..."

Dean laughs at the comment, the ridiculous idea of him missing her, but wastes no time trying to come up with a smart ass comeback to save his pride; his ego jumped out the window the moment he kissed her anyway, but it didn’t matter as much as his lust did.

"Bedroom, now," he growls as he takes her hand and leads her towards the room he knows is empty. 

When the door is closed and locked behind them, neither wastes time taking their clothes off. Bela is only half way out of her complicated dress when Dean, already down to his underwear, picks her up and leads her towards the bed. She laughs again at his eagerness but Dean can't bring himself to care about her misunderstanding while he settles between her legs and presses his body down on top of hers. He kisses her with no other goal but to seek his own pleasure, trying hard to concentrate in the female shape beneath him, her breasts, the warmth between her legs, and not the memory of Castiel sitting in that same bed a little over a quarter of an hour ago moaning praises to him.

The intrusive thoughts distract him enough for a moment that Bela manages to get the upper hand and rolls them so she's on top. She sits on his erection, earning a moan from him, and smiles down at him.

"I think I owe you one for making you wait so long," she declares, her body slowly moving backwards while her hands pull Dean's boxers down. "Don't say I'm not generous."

Before Dean can argue giving him head is not a good idea if she wants their encounter to last more than five minutes, her mouth sinks down on his dick. He moans, loud and shamelessly, his skin tingling with how much he needed to feel the pleasure he'd been too stubborn to allow himself to have. Now that he's finally with a woman in safe and familiar territory, he can relax, he can cum in peace after a long week of getting hard for the wrong person. Fuck Novak. Fuck him and the bet. Fuck his trench-coat, his suit. His lips, his jawline. His eternal sex hair. Those predatory eyes. How he gets all out of breath and bites his lower lip while smiling as Dean sucks him off.

Dean's eyes fly open.

"Fuck," he mutters in frustration, his mind still so full of Castiel. 

He looks down at Bela working on his cock in a desperate attempt to focus on her and stop thinking about the guy that’s supposed to be his rival and the fact that he can still taste cum in the back of his throat, but as he watches her all he can think is that he now knows exactly what it's like to be in her place. To suck at the head, taste the precum, feel the veins on his tongue. He wonders if that is what he looks like when he is pleasuring Castiel, if this is what those blue eyes see when they watch Dean work. 

Bela sticks her tongue out and licks the underside of his cock pornographically, all while maintaining eye contact and smiling, and the only thought on Dean's mind is that he should do that next time he gets a chance because Castiel would love it, he'd be so pleased.

And with that last thought in mind he cums. Bela quickly moves away and starts complaining about some strings landing on her face. Dean ignores her in favor of gripping himself and working through his much needed climax. First comes the relief, the rush of endorphins. He smiles, content for the first time in days, his mind full of nothing but white pleasure.

Then he realises Castiel was right, Dean couldn't stop thinking about him and it only served to make him cum faster.

Dean groans and sits up, his mental frustration taking over his mind again, now without the physical part at least that usually went with it. Still, the sea of emotions work to upset him faster rather than slowly, and he wants nothing more than to get out of that room where Castiel's presence seems to haunt him.

"What are you doing?" Bela demands to know as Dean jumps out of bed and begins dressing up in a haste, trying to touch his clothes as little as possible while the cum is trying drying in his fingers.

He sighs, frustrated, and decides to just fuck it and cleans his hand on his jeans.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he snaps back at her, trying to put his shoes as fast as possible with his shirt hanging from his shoulder.

"You can't leave, we're not finished," she argues with a tad of anger.

Dean looks up to see her waiting in the bed, still semi-naked and flustered, and he huffs a laugh.

"I'll be back in  _ two and a half hours _ , how about that, sweetheart?" he mocks her because now he does have the mental capability to be pissed at her behaviour.

Dean barely has time to duck when she throws a pillow at his head.

"You owe me!"

"Nah, I don't. All those consent signs around campus say I don't have to do anything I don't want to, so goodnight to ya, Bela. Maybe be on time next time and stop treating people like shit."

The walk home is awkward, his skin sticky and uncomfortable with dry cum in his groin and lower abdomen area. The combination of alcohol and post-sex contentment make him feel lazy and tired, the 15 streets walk home seemingly dragging on forever, but he has a lot to think about and of course it is all about Castiel again.

_ Have you ever considered you might be bisexual, at least? _ , he’d asked Dean.

Truthfully, no. Growing up on a small town in a red state, the possibility never even occurred to him. There were male figures he looked up to, like stars from his favourite western movies and a couple of musicians, some of which he thought were handsome but he assumed people just tacitly agreed on that, no big deal, handsome is handsome. Not to mention he  _ did _ like girls, he’d been so busy  all his life chasing after them with a high success rate that he'd never even stopped to consider there was a whole other gender he could have fun with. He’d never even met someone gay until he moved away for school and met Charlie, so naturally he never questioned his sexuality. John Winchester's son, a regular born and raised Kansas boy who depended on a football scholarship to attend school had no place thinking about boys.

Until Castiel.

But seeing him wouldn't only mean exploring with men. Dean wouldn't be testing the waters more than he would be jumping into the ocean without a lifejacket. Castiel wasn't discovering himself, he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted, and what he wanted was to break Dean, make him submissive and compliant. But he didn't just enjoy the physical part, he reveled in the mess he created in Dean's mind, the power he had to make him question his entire sexuality.

And still, apparently, he wanted more and Dean knew exactly what that meant even if Castiel had never said anything specific about his plans. Dean feels his heart racing at the thought of sleeping with Novak. Not just sleeping with him, but getting fucked with him. Bending over for him.

It couldn't be that bad, could it? So many gay men couldn't be wrong, there had to be something enjoyable about it, even if it took a while to adapt... to stretch for Castiel.

A shiver runs down his spine, his cheek turn pink and he takes a deep breath.

There were almost 2 months of bet to go and Dean's testicles had nearly imploded from the sexual frustration after just the first week. He couldn't get out of it without breaking his principles and Castiel was relentless so he might as well try to enjoy it, right? He couldn't spend two months like this, nervous and distracted, it wouldn't be good for him or his academic performance. It made sense to try to enjoy the inevitable ride or at least that is what he is trying to convince himself of to justify his urge to give into Castiel and his promises of pleasure.

Not that he was gay or even felt comfortable identifying as bisexual, but if he were to try it, Novak wasn't a bad choice at all. Truth was, Dean wasn’t repulsed by him. He wasn't bulky and he was shorter than Dean, but his slim body had a nice shape, with lean muscles formed by regular training and loads of running. His face was beautiful, it was undeniable, his features balanced like that of an angel in a sculpture. His lips... His lips made Dean curious.

"God, you sound so gay," he tells himself, blushing all the way home.

Once again, his weekend is spent being nervous. Dean keeps his phone close at all moments in case Novak texts him. From time to time, he changes his mind about how he wants to handle the situation. On Saturday morning, after waking up from a rather sexy dream in which he made out with Castiel, his dick decides he should try to take advantage of the situation but later that afternoon, while spending hours with his painfully straight mates, the doubt and shame start creeping in again into his mind. He wonders what they'd think if he slept with Castiel, if they would treat him differently. He wonders if his place in the team would suffer as a consequence, if he would be discriminated. Dean can’t afford that to happen, his academic life depends on his football scholarship.

All his worrying turns out to be in vain though because once again Novak is a no-show on the weekend. Dean has the urge to texts him and ask him when he might want to meet again because the uncertainty drives him crazy, but he stops himself, knowing it isn't his place to question Castiel; he'll show up when he wants to, those were the terms of the bet.

Monday comes around and once again the morning practice with the team gives him a couple of hours of continuous distraction. Under the sun, he feels a little more like himself but afterwards, when Dean is studying with Charlie at the library, he goes back to feeling like Castiel is an omnipresent god who might show up at any moment.

But eventually it's time to go to class and there's still no sign of Castiel. Dean goes home after class and prays Novak won't show up simply because he's exhausted and doesn’t have the energy his minds requires to deal with it. He has a quick meal and heads straight to bed, turning down a game of Mario Karts when one of his roommates offers the controllers to him. When he's under the covers, Dean still takes a moment to check his phone, just in case, even though it's been by his side all day and there’s no way he could have missed a text notification.

Tuesdays are busy days for him so he knows Novak won't bother him at least until he comes out of his shift at the auto shop, so Dean has most of the day to be normal and not a nervous wreck. He spends the entire morning coming and going from one class to the other, trying to resist the urge to check his phone during particularly dull moments; even if Castiel texted him, they wouldn't be able to meet until after 5 pm.

After his last class is over he grabs a quick bite for lunch with Benny at the cafeteria then heads to Bobby's where he works part time for some extra cash and the experience. The entire shift goes by without a single message but at exactly 5 pm, like clockwork, Castiel writes him a message ordering him to be at this place in 45 minutes. Dean isn't sure why but there's almost a relief that accompanies the text, a  _ finally! _ sort of feeling after waiting for so long, even if now Dean has something entirely new to be nervous about.

It takes him only 30 minutes to get to Castiel's and during that time he argues with himself, trying to find a consensus between his shame and his repressed desires that are becoming harder and harder to deny. He knows what's coming, he knows it'll turn him on, but he has no idea what to do then. Castiel hasn’t touched him yet for whatever reason and Dean is not about to ask him, he'd never be able to find the words to admit out loud he wants things he doesn't even allow himself to think about when he's alone. He is stuck between two powerful poles in his own mind; the side that has discovered a whole new way to get pleasure and the side with deep rooted fears he didn't know he even had.

And there at the center of the conflict is always Castiel, the one who set it all in motion.

_ Goddamn blue eyes,  _ he thinks and huffs.

Dean lets himself in. Novak isn't home yet, so he allows himself to take a quick look around. His one bedroom apartment is rather nice, with hardwood floors and walls painted a dark shade of green in the living room. The bedroom is big but there's nothing on it except a queen (and perfectly tidy) bed and big closet. The living room is small but cozy, mostly occupied with a large L-shaped grey sofa and a massive bookcase packed with thick books that look all trouble and no fun and a TV in the center. The kitchen is right next to the living room, all modern with appliances so clean Dean suspects Castiel never uses them. Not to mention there's no dining table. Out of curiosity Dean takes a look into the fridge and finds it almost empty of food except for some basics, like eggs, bread and cheese.

"How the fuck does he keep in shape?" Dean wonders out loud. If Castiel's team trains as much as Dean's, Novak is ought to be hungry.

He checks the cupboards next, wondering if maybe Castiel is one of those sad students who lives on pasta and cookies. Instead, Dean finds ridiculous amounts of tea, which he thinks is slightly funny coming from a tough guy like Castiel.

The door opens and Dean closes the cupboard abruptly, embarrassed to have been caught snooping around. He turns around, trying to look casual and not guilty, and comes face to face with a seemingly very irritated, bloody Castiel. He has a small cut just over his left eyebrow, his right cheek is undoubtedly starting to swell and his shirt has bloodstains.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean asks while Castiel takes his trench coat and suit jacket off in quick, angry motions.

"I got into a fight," Novak replies dryly.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

Castiel's hands go for his belt and Dean throws his hands up to stop him.

"Wow, wow, wow, hold on there, cowboy!"

Novak sighs in frustration and narrows his eyes at Dean accusingly.

"I don’t have time for your gay panic, Dean. I'm very stressed."

Dean blushes profusely, feeling it all the way to his ears. 

"I'm not saying no, I'm just saying wait a minute. You're bleeding, for fuck's sake."

"I'm a football player, I can handle a few punches," Castiel states proudly.

Dean rolls his eyes at him and walks past him to look for something in the bathroom that might help him clean up Castiel’s injuries. He goes straight for the small storage space underneath the sink and finds a small first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol, then nods his head towards the sofa for Castiel to follow him.

“Sit down and let me take a look at that,” he commands a moody Castiel who, surprisingly, complies.

Dean opens the kit and grabs a couple of gauze pads. He drops some alcohol in one and holds his hands out, waiting for Castiel to do the same. Novak stares at him stubbornly for a moment in silent protest until Dean rolls his eyes at him and waves a hand to hurry him, and only then Castiel holds one hand out for Dean to treat.

Apparently now touching Castiel is some sort of trigger for him, making the heat rise in his ears, so Dean tries not to think much about what he is doing. Dean takes a look at the bloody knuckles and as he starts cleaning the dry blood, in an attempt to distract himself from how warm Castiel's hands feel, he asks, "damn, dude, who pissed you off so much?"

"Co-worker."

"What did he do?"

"Sexually harassed another co-worker. A friend of mine."

Dean stops his ministrations and looks up in anger. "What did the fucker do?"

"He had his hand on her rear end."

The corner of Dean's lips turn up despite the seriousness of the situation and he tries to contain himself, still nervous around Castiel, particularly when he is in such a bad mood. "You did not just say rear end."

"I did."

"And, what? You just punched him?" Dean asks, mildly amused.

"I pushed him, he punched me so I punched him back. Then we repeated that a couple of times until he realised it was more beneficial for his health to stay down."

Dean nods in approval and smiles. He doesn’t know why but he finds Castiel’s confidence quite attractive. ''Nice."

Castiel doesn't return his smile. "I got fired."

“Oh, fuck.” Dean’s smile drops.

Castiel shrugs and sighs again. “I don’t regret it. Hannah, my friend, said she was going to talk to our boss, explain the situation, so perhaps I’ll get my job back.”

Dean goes back to treating his hand and, not knowing what else to say, he just settles for the socially acceptable thing. “That sucks, Cas, I’m really sorry.”

Novak frowns, confused, and says, “you didn’t do anything wrong, Dean.”

It’s Dean’s time to be confused. He stops for a moment, studying Castiel to see if he’s joking. He’s not. “No, I know, I just meant- never mind…”

Dean adds ‘ _ a very literal guy _ ’ in the lists of things he knows about Castiel. The list is short.

In no time, Castiel’s knuckles are almost as good as new. Then Dean moves on to the cut in his eyebrow, working more gently on the open wound. He grabs the side of Castiel’s face gently with one hand to keep him still while he works with the other. He expects Castiel to show some degree of pain when he cleans the injury with alcohol, but the tough motherfucker just grits his teeth and looks straight at Dean while he tries not to look back at those intense pair of eyes. It’s not bad enough that it’ll need stitches, so Dean just puts a bandage over it and calls it a day.

“There, all better,” he smiles in satisfaction as he takes a look at the injury, which is growing in size. “Might wanna put some ice on it, though.”

When he looks back down, Castiel is still staring right at him in silence. Dean had almost forgotten how intimidating he truly found him, how nervous he was around him all the time, but now he was remembering just fine as he realised how close they were sitting, how easy it would be to kiss him. Without being able to hold back the urge, his eyes travel down until they find Castiel’s pink, chapped lips. He licks his own without realising it while he thinks he could kiss Castiel’s lips better too.

Castiel smiles, slowly, in that predatory way of his that sends shivers down Dean’s spine. 

“You want to kiss me,” he says. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, the truth he can effortlessly see in Dean's eyes.

Dean doesn’t know what to reply. He does want to kiss him, he clearly does, but at the same time he can’t move forward, can’t break the space between them, doesn’t even know if he is allowed to. 

Tilting his head to the side without breaking eye contact, Castiel leans a little closer into Dean's personal space and continues teasing him in a low, sensual voice. "What stops you?"

Dean swallows hard and tries to come up with an answer, but his brain short-circuits as he breathes in Novak's smell, something ,manly mixed with aftershave and the scent of books. He'd never noticed that about him before, or any other man for that matter.

"Do you really think you can hold back for two months?" he whispers. "We're wasting time, we could be having so much fun together, Dean. Are you afraid of bending over for me, straight boy? Are you afraid you're going to like it, being with a man?"

Before he knows he's doing it, Dean nods. Castiel chuckles in response and reaches for one of Dean's hands, closing his own around the wrist. Only then does Dean notice how tense he is, hands curled up into fists resting over his tights. He lets his hand open as Castiel leads it towards his crotch. The sound of the zipper becoming undone reaches Dean's ears and a moment later he's palming Castiel through his trousers.

When Castiel leans even closer, Dean holds his breath and watches it happen in slow motion, only to have Novak change course at the last moment. He goes for Dean's neck instead, his lips and his barely there stubble ghosting over Dean's skin as he continues trying to provoke him.

"You already like it, Dean, don't lie to yourself. You like being my good, obedient boy. You'd like other things too, if you just asked me to do them to you already. I'd rim you so good, I would prepare you carefully, and only when you cannot wait anymore, when you're almost begging me, I'd fuck you endlessly."

A shaky breath escapes Dean's lips as Castiel's lips start a full attack on his neck. He licks and bites over Dean's pulse, earning all kinds of noises from him, then slips his hand under the trousers and his boxers. Dean doesn't need any spoken commands, he grips Castiel's erection as soon as he finds it and begins jerking him off like he wishes he could be doing to himself.

And he can barely remember why he isn't doing exactly that.

Castiel throws an arm around his shoulder and pulls Dean even closer. He lets go of Dean's hand, which never stops working on his cock, only to look for the other and bring it to rest over the prominent bulge between Dean's legs.

"Come on, touch yourself for me," he whispers in Dean's ear before nipping at the earlobe. "Touch yourself and I'll know, I'll know you give me permission to move on to other things. I'll make you feel so good, I promise you, Dean."

Completely overwhelmed by the situation, Dean closes his eyes and bites back a moan, feeling his heart furiously beating against his chest. Castiel's tongue working on his neck, all his words fluttering in Dean's mind, how he's leading Dean's hand to grope himself... It's too much, the hottest non penetrative sex he's ever had, and he could cum from it alone, all the blood in his body rushing South. And he wants to cum, he wants to so badly. He wants to orgasm with Castiel's scent intoxicating him while he's being pressed between the couch and a solid, strong body. He wants the dirty words delivered by that manly voice, he wants to hear Castiel panting too on his ear while Dean touches him. 

Castiel's grip around his wrist leaves him and Dean opens his eyes, almost disappointed by the loss. Novak pulls back from his neck only enough to look Dean in the eye while he opens the button of his Jeans, pulls down his zipper.

Dean feels hypnotized by the blue eyes that command his next movement before Castiel even needs to say anything.

"It's time. Be a good boy and touch yourself for me, okay?"

For the first time, Dean finds his voice, breathless and broken but beautiful in its rupture. "Okay."

When Dean finally closes his hand around his cock while Castiel watches him in triumph, touching himself at the same speed he's pleasuring Castiel, it is like a dam breaks. He knows what he's promising, what he's consenting to and that he will most likely panic some more about it, but in that moment his mind finally shuts up and all that remains is the pleasure building in his body, Iow in his groin, the blood rushing through his veins and a burning desire to kiss Castiel.

Not finding a reason to hold back anymore, Dean lunges forward and kisses Castiel. It's needy, fast and messy, all tongue and breathless moans. Castiel takes Dean's face in his hands, his fingers running through the short hair, keeping him in place.

Dean feels cheap, easy, and he loves it, he's more turned on than he can ever remember. He jerks both of them off fast, hoping he will last longer than Castiel, but then Novak pulls back, all sex hair and lust his eyes, lips swollen from all that angry kissing, and Dean barely cums just from seeing that.

Then Castiel smiles and whisper, "I'm going to fuck every last doubt out of you, my boy."

Dean cums hard in his hand, gripping himself hard as he tries to maintain eye contact with Castiel. He can't though. Blue is the last thing he sees. When he closes his eyes, he only sees white as the pleasure runs through him, making him bend over himself, the toes in his feet curling. Castiel holds him close, resting Dean's head on his shoulder as he flies with his climax. He starts guiding Dean's hand again as he approaches his own orgasm, fucking into their hands with low, rhythmic groans until he cums too.

Dean is frozen in bliss for about a full minute, recovering his breath as Castiel rather gently strokes his hair. He can't remember ever cumming so hard from masturbating but then again everything with Castiel was new.

And more new things were coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, comments are super appreciated <3 and so are kudos ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said it was going to be a short fic? Yeah, well, apparently not so much anymore.  
> Also, had to add a chapter because I realised I had to break one into two, otherwise it would be super long.  
> I'm trying to post a chapter a week, but I volunteered in a research and it's taking way longer than they told us, so I've been a lil busy. Sorry for the delay.  
> ANYWAY  
> Enjoy
> 
> P.S.: if you find any spelling mistakes, typos or general errors, and you want to point them out, feel free to do it.

Dean spends the entire following day being teased about the small hickey in his neck, just under his ear, courtesy of Castiel. His teammates whistle at him as they run around the field in the morning during their warm up and Bobby jokingly asks him if he's into that whole Twilight thing kids keep going on about because it looks like a vampire bit him. He dodges their questions with enigmatic, proud expressions, playing his role of womaziner like he means it, and never tells them a thing about who gave him the marks, but their attempts to try to make him spill the beans are nothing compared to Charlie though, whom Dean almost wants to avoid seeing but he really needs the help studying. When they meet on Thursday at the library and he refuses to tell her who he's seeing, she spends hours trying to guess, throwing random names from time to time, absolutely not helping Dean concentrate. He has to pinkie swear he isn't sleeping with Bela anymore to get her to back off.

Despite the jokes he has to endure and the weight of keeping Castiel a secret from everybody, Dean feels  calmer. He can sleep, he can concentrate better in his studies. He feels lighter, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, even though he's still anxious about what's coming soon, though not in a bad way. He's... curious, if not a little impatient.

If he is honest with himself, Dean is oddly disappointed that Novak hasn’t called him again yet. He had left Castiel’s apartment with the promise of more sex soon, since Castiel is now unemployed. Dean couldn’t denied he was looking forward for his next great orgasm; now he’d given Castiel full consent, he was thirsty for him. And yet two full days had gone by without any word from him. He’d spent all his free time that evening waiting for a text from him, checking his phone for messages under the table every couple of minutes when Charlie wasn’t looking, but he’d made it all the way back home late that night with no prospects of getting laid.

Despite his persistent insecurities, the fear that getting fucked in the ass might hurt to or that someone could find out about them,  Dean couldn't bring himself to regret his decision. Well, his dick's decision. Novak was addictive. It wasn't just that he was handsome, which he undeniably was, but he also made Dean feel in ways he hadn't before. Sex hadn't felt so exciting, so new, for a long time. Dean's sex life wasn't boring by a long shot and he considered himself to be good at it, possibly more than the average guy if he was allowed to be cocky, but there was a limit to how kinky girls allowed themselves to be with him. By shyness, honest disinterest on kinkier sex or the fear of being considered sluts if they took it too far, they limited themselves to pretty normal sex. Only two had ever swallowed his cum, one gave him permission to spank her and Pamela had let him fuck her in the ass in a wild weekend they spent together. Dean had only ever had one girlfriend, Lisa, but he always knew she was too vanilla to try anything rougher. Then there was Ronda, who made him try her panties on. That was, in his opinion, the kinkiest thing he'd ever done and he’d liked it.

And now he is Novak's sex toy. He does what Castiel tells him to do, whenever he wants. There is an odd, tacit trust between them, something that just happened the very first time Dean got down on his knees. Novak tests Dean's limits, makes Dean reconsider them. He is rough with his words and his hands, he enjoys humiliating Dean, teasing him out of his insecurities, something Dean never knew turned him on, and still Dean knows that Castiel will never hurt him, that he will never abuse his power.

He can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with him, how he can possibly enjoy being... well, practically degraded. Every time Castiel calls him something demeaning, when he fucks Dean's mouth carelessly, when he orders him around or inflicts light pain in him, it goes straight to Dean's dick. He wants more. He wants to be held down, maybe tied up too; he wants Castiel to bend him over and make him question everything he thought he knew about sex. After spending all his life trying to be in control of everything, he needs to be powerless for 10 minutes with the reassurance that Novak will stop if Dean asks him to. Castiel is the perfect person to give him the things he never knew he wanted without needing to ask for it with words. He is able to read Dean like no one else, has a magic power to get under his skin and make him submit. Something in the back of his mind tells him he should be ashamed of himself for wanting all those things, but he's nothing but excited.

"You're acting weird."

Dean jumps on his seat, nearly choking on his taco, and looks up to see his best friend staring at him from the doorway that leads to the kitchen. He coughs and bangs his fist over his chest, trying to get his food down.

"Jesus, don't sneak up on me like that, man."

"I've been standing here for like literally 5 minutes."

"You've been watching me eat for 5 minutes? Oh, Benny, I didn't know you had that sort of kink," he teases his friend, winking an eye at him playfully.

Benny rolls his eyes at him and crosses the room to sit opposite from him at the table. "What I mean is, you were so busy in dreamland that you didn't even notice me."

"Well, you're a bunch of loud roommates, I usually hear you assholes coming," Dean complains half-heartedly; he usually doesn't mind them, he's used to the noise and kind of likes knowing there's someone else in the house there with him. Sometimes he likes to pretend it's Sammy when he hears someone closing the door with unnecessary force, he always does that and mom always yells at him to be more careful.

"You're avoiding my question," Benny accuses him. He reaches over the table to grab a black bean that fell off Dean's taco and throws it into his mouth.

"You didn't ask any," Dean replies casually, avoiding meeting his eyes while he collects everything that fell on his plate and puts it back on the taco. He takes a huge bite while Benny stares at him.

"Okay, smartass. I was trying to give you a chance to start the conversation. You want a proper question?, cause I'll ask you a proper question about your feelings, brother, you know I will."

Dean rolls his eyes and with his mouth still full of food, mutters, "God, you sound like Sammy.”

"Well, he did ask me to take care of you, so."

Dean snorts and swallows. "He did?"

Benny nods. "He did. So, will you tell me what's up with you? You've been acting weird for like two weeks now."

"Benny, I'm fine," Dean assures him lazily and for the first time in days, he means it. Apart from being tired, a little sore from getting tackled yesterday and sexually on edge, he was, all in all, fine.

"Come on, man, it's me. Is something bothering you? Are you still salty about losing the match? Did the coach give you crap over it? We gave The Angels a good fight, brother-"

Dean sighs and raises a hand to stop Benny. "I know, I know. We were good, they just were better. That Novak makes his team go like clockwork. Don’t tell him I told you that, though."

He sits back on his chair, momentarily angry at Castiel like the used to get before they (sort of) got to know each other better. He never truly _hated_ his rival, The Angels were a team that always played by the rules and their captain made sure to stop them if any player on his team got unnecessarily vicious. Novak liked to win fair and square, something Dean respected, but both teams had been rivals for decades so the animosity between their members was always naturally there. Now Dean was beginning to think it was all sort of childish.

Benny frowns confused. “Why the hell would I tell him anything? What’s up with that guy, are you two friends now or something?”

Dean snorts. “Nope,” he answers fast and honestly.

“Then why did he come up to us the other day at the party?”

Dean looks down and takes another huge bite of his taco, hoping to be able to pretend his ears don’t color when he thinks of that night. He shrugs, dismissing Benny’s concerns, even though he absolutely understands his best friend must be confused about his sudden newfound tolerance towards Novak, the guy Dean spend the last two years talking about how he wanted to destroy him in the field and wipe that obnoxious grin off his face.

“He was just being friendly, ‘suppose.”

“But _why_ ? Since _when_?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude. He’s weird.”

“I know, we’ve been trashing him for years over it, and now you’re friends all of a sudden?”

Dean sighs and puts his taco down, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Benny, you sound like a jealous girlfriend. Bottom line is, we’re not friends, I just kinda know him and he came up and said hi to me, that’s all. Stop overreacting. You don’t have to hate the dude cause he plays for our rival team.”

Benny sighs and sits back on his chair too, defeated. “You’re acting weird, I’m telling you.”

Dean feels guilty for not telling his best friend the whole truth, but he can’t, not to him, not to anyone. Instead he shrugs and smirks, pretending he’s not dying to end the conversation, and says, “maybe I’m just growing up. Getting more mature and stuff like that like my mom always dreamed off.”

That makes Benny laugh. “Yeah, no, that’s not it for sure.”

Dean grins back at him and throws him a black bean at his face.

Feeling already full, he pushes his chair back and gets up. When he grabs the plate and walks over to the kitchen to wash it, he hears Benny following him to the other room. Dean doesn’t say anything, hoping Benny will change the conversation or go to bed. The last thing he needs is to create a web of lies he _will_ get caught on sooner or later.

He’s just letting the sponge soak when he feels Benny’s hand on his front pocket, stealing his phone in a swift, graceful moment. Dean yelps and turns on his heels, water dripping from the sponge and onto the floor. He panics for a moment at what his friend might see if he checks his phone, then his heart relaxes when he remembers he always deletes Castiel’s messages practically as soon as he gets them.

“Dude, what-”

“If you’re _fine_ , like you insist,” he starts explaining, eyes never leaving Dean’s phone, “then you’re down for throwing a party this Saturday, right? Talked to the guys, we’re all in.”

“Yeah, okay, but what the hell do you need my phone for?” Dean asks as he dries his hands quickly on a dishcloth and then tries to get the device back from Benny, who just turns around and holds it as far from Dean’s reach as possible.

“You know the prettiest girls, so I’m inviting all your contacts,” Benny tells him. Dean can see over his shoulder as his friends sends a general message to all his contacts. Benny turns around with a expression of triumph and hands him his phone back.

“Bold of you to assume everyone on my contact list are girls,” he protests. He’s half-mad but trying to hide; Benny just unknowingly invited Castiel over too.

“Not everyone, just, what? 85%?”

Dean throws daggers at him with his eyes and stays silent.

Benny barks a laugh. “I’m right, aren’t I? You slut,” he teases Dean, shoving him playfully.

“Why are you interested in my contacts, though? What happened with Ana? You’re not seeing her anymore?”

Benny’s amused expression falls a little and he shakes his head. “Didn’t work out. First date was a disaster. Turns out she’s not nearly as nice as I thought she was.”

“Shit, man, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cause you’ve been acting weird,” Benny points out again, raising an eyebrow. He gives Dean a soft smile, one that tries to hide his worries but fails. “I didn’t want to put more things on your plate.”

“You’re just telling me now so I won’t get offended over the breach of my privacy,” Dean jokes, trying to stop the conversation from going that way again.

“Privacy?” Benny snorts. “Brother, we live in a frat house.”

Friday is another day of frustration for Dean. All he gets as an answer from Castiel is one single word:

< _Received._

A word, just one, nothing else, no counter-proposal to meet sooner, no nothing, and Dean just stares at it for a full minute, waiting for the rest of the words to magically appear. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to make out of that message; does that mean Castiel’s coming? Or he isn’t but he’s too polite to be upfront about it? Perhaps he’s mad at Dean for texting him? Is Dean _not_ supposed to? Maybe he thought Dean was pressuring him and since it’s Castiel who is in charge of whatever they are, that might upset him. Dean has no fucking clue, he doesn’t know him enough to be able to understand the text’s hidden message. _If_ it even has a hidden message!

 _You’re overthinking. Stop overthinking everything,_ Dean orders himself all through that day’s class.

When he goes to work, though, Bobby is waiting for him with a gift, a new project to congratulate Dean on all his hard work: a 1957 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Roadster that a big fish brought in to be repaired. Dean almost pees his pants from the excitement, whistling as he looks down at the majestic car. They start working on in arm in arm and for a couple of hours it’s all he can think as they figure out what’s wrong with the car and how to bring it back to its former glory. Working with his hands makes Dean happy, makes him feel _useful_ , like his father taught him. At the end of his shift, he has the urge to call John and the car is basically all they talk about as he walks home. Then John asks him what’s new lately in his life and Dean freezes for a moment before he lies and says nothing, because John Winchester is the _last_ person he’d ever tell about his gay escapades.

At some point Mary takes the phone from John and spends almost half an hour talking to Dean, asking him if he’s eating well, if he’s seeing any girls because she doesn’t want to be an old grandmother, and a lot more things Dean doesn’t have a good answer for, but eventually Sammy comes to his rescue and the two brothers talk for over an hour on the phone. He wishes deep down he could tell Sam about Castiel, about the fact that he likes guys too, and he’s almost tempted to say something about it, but the words get stuck on the tip of his tongue and there’s never an opportunity for him to even lead the conversation that way.

On Saturday, every guy at the house helps get it ready for a party. Floors are swept and then mopped, all dishes are cleaned and put away, potentially breakable or valuable stuff is put away, booze is bought and plastic cups are spread out, condoms are stocked on the bathroom. By 11 pm, the house is so packed Dean doesn’t dare moving from the table he’s sitting at with his friends from fear of forever losing his place or running into someone he used to date… or fuck. He hasn’t had nearly as much alcohol as he wishes he had but he’s too invested in a ridiculously feisty discussion on what everyone’s Hogwarts houses are anyway. Charlie insists Garth is a Ravenclaw, like herself, but everyone else says he’s a Hufflepuff. Dean gets downright offended when Jo says he’s a Slytherin and he makes a long speech about he’s a Gryffindor and won’t take anything else for an answer. They’re all yelling at each other over the loud music, except for Pamela and Benny, who eye them with amusement.

“You’re all a bunch of nerds,” Pamela mocks them, finishing whatever alcohol is left in her cup in one go and rolling her eyes, like she’s too mature to join in.

“I think the word you're looking for is _geek_!” Charlie corrects her, sticking her tongue out to her.

“She’s too cool for us,” Jo teases her. Pamela elbows her playfully.

“Go find us more beer, cool girl,” Dean asks her.

“Nice try, Dean, there’s no way I’m leaving my spot unsupervised just so you can-”

“Is that _Novak_?” Benny suddenly asks, completely ignoring Pamela. Everyone turns around to look the way Benny’s looking and, indeed, they see Castiel standing close to the door.

Dean almost chokes on his own spit; he hadn’t expected him to show up, not so late, not after that dry _received_ he got from him the other day. He wants to hide behind someone and the same time he can’t take his eyes off of Castiel. He’s wearing dark jeans, a little tighter than his usual slacks, a white shirt and a dark blue dress vest that looks too fancy for a frat party but hugs his torso deliciously, plus his usual backpack hanging from one shoulder. He has an old bruise on the side of his face from the fight at work, which Dean figures might still hurt. Castiel looks out of place and slightly uncomfortable as another member of Dean’s football team gives him a rather unfriendly look. He looks away in a way that clearly denotes he isn’t there looking for trouble, and keeps looking around the room, probably for Dean.

The moment Jo sees he’s holding a bottle of alcohol, she’s yelling at him and waving her arms in the air, inviting him over to their table.

“Hey, Novak! Over here! Novak!”

He doesn't hear her but spots her, then his eyes find Dean and he smiles, clearly relieved to have something to do with himself as Dean’s teammate doesn’t stop eyeing him like he's just waiting for an excuse to start a fight with him.

Dean sees him coming in slow motion as he struggles through the crowd, and only barely registers Benny talking to him.

“Did you invite him?” he all but hisses, a clear edge of animosity in this tone.

Dean blinks a couple of times and forces himself to tear his eyes away from Castiel. “ _You_ invited him,” he throws back at his friend.

“ _Me_?”

“Yeah, when you breached my privacy and sent a message to all my contacts, remember?” he replies rather resentfully, lifting an eyebrow. “Great party by the way, love to have all girls I've once fucked packed up under the same roof, _brother_.”

Benny opens his mouth to reply but Charlie elbows him in the ribs when Castiel makes it to their table.

“Hello,” Novak greets them rather awkwardly, looking around the table with a shy smile. Dean blinks a few times, confused; it always seems so surreal to him when Castiel acts like a normal human being. He can’t help wondering if he’s pretending to be so sweet, or if perhaps he’s only acting when he’s rough with Dean.

A round of _hi_ and _hellos_ welcomes him and Jo moves a little on her chair to leave Castiel a tiny space to sit, knowing there are no more chairs available.

“Dude with the tequila, come sit next to him!” she grins, jumping on her seat; Jo, just like Dean, loves to get wasted.

Castiel hesitates for only a moment, looking Dean’s way for a fraction of a moment like he wishes he could sit next to him instead, before he sits in the very edge of the chair and lets his backpack slide down his arm and into the floor. For some reason Dean is thankful they can’t sit side by side; he doesn’t think he could handle Castiel sitting next to him _and_ having to act normal in front of all his friends, even more so as it seems Castiel plans to _stay_ with them this time around and not just say hello to mess with him. And even though their arrangement is exclusively sexual, it would be rude to explain it was actually Benny who accidentally invited him and then kick him out.

“Novak, quick question; what’s your Hogwarts House?” Charlie asks him, a crazy gleam of enthusiasm in her eyes. Surely she wants him to be a Ravenclaw, since she’s the only one in their group.

Castiel frowns, confused. “What’s my what?”

They all gasp in horror. Even Benny and Pamela are surprised he doesn’t know what they’re talking about.

“Oh my _God_!” Charlie brings a hand to her chest, eyes wide in shock. “You don’t know Harry Potter?”

“Who?” Castiel asks, his frown deepening as he tilts his head to the side. It makes Dean smile, he looks… _adorable_.

Pamela chuckles. “You're a whole new kind of weird. I like you.”

“But- how- how can you not- _how_?” Jo asks, shaking her head.

Castiel looks utterly puzzled if not a little uncomfortable.

“You’ve never even seen the movies?” Garth asks more gently.

Castiel shrugs. “No. Sorry?”

“But-”

Pamela throws a hand up to interrupt Jo before she can go on. “Okay, enough nerd panic! Dude, open the tequila, it’s about damn time we all get wasted.”

There’s a cheer of agreement around the table and Castiel sets the bottle in the table in front of Pamela. She hurries to open it and brings it to her nose to smell.

“Ah, yes,” she sighs happily, even though Dean wrinkles his nose just imagining the smell of concentrated alcohol that must have, “this is all I needed to be able to stand you nerds ranting about Harry frigging Potter. _Again_.”

“Alright, alright. Give us alcohol and we’ll talk about something else!” Dean offers. Then he clears his throat and throws a tentative look at Castiel, who is looking at him. Why is he _always_ looking at him? “I- err- thanks for the alcohol. We’ve been fighting over whose turn it is to go in an adventure to find alcohol for like an hour.”

“We all know whoever leaves their chair won't sit down again all night,” Jo explains to Castiel.

“Before they got distracted with Harry Potter,” Pamela mutters as she starts pouring tequila in everyone’s cups.

“You’re welcome, Dean,” Castiel replies with a barely there smile and a gentle nod of his head.

Dean swallows hard, not knowing how to handle the way Novak stares at him with both kindness and a secret intensity hidden in those blue eyes, like he is thinking of how much he’d like to fuck Dean or like he knows Dean is thinking the same too. He averts his eyes, fearing his friends might sense his awkwardness, and busies himself with his newly filled cup. He is about to bring it to his lips, needing more alcohol to help him relax and get through a night full of Castiel, but Charlie stops him abruptly.

“Hold it! There’s not much, so let’s make it worth it. Let’s play a game, shall we?” she wiggles her eyebrows and looks around the table, grinning like an idiot. “We haven’t played ‘never have I ever’ in a while.”

“God, not those high school games again,” Benny groans and throws his cup a longing glance, like he would down it all in one go if he could. “Just let me get drunk.”

“Come on, don’t be a party pooper,” Pamela teases him. “Besides, it’ll be a good way to get to know Novak.”

“And to scare him away too,” Garth shakes his head and gives Castiel a sympathetic look. “They’re about to ask a lot of private stuff, my friend.”

Castiel shrugs. “I’ve nothing to hide.”

Dean doesn’t even dare look in his direction, but he knows Castiel is staring at him. His heart is hammering against his chest; how is he supposed to say he doesn’t want to play because he _does_ have something to hide? All the questions _always_ turn sexual with Pamela and Jo playing, there's just no way around it. What if someone asks something he doesn't want to disclose? What if he lies? Would Castiel say something? Even if he didn't, Dean would feel ashamed knowing Novak knows he's lying.

“Okay, game on, then,” Pamela gives Castiel a wolfish grin. Dean studies her for a moment and realises, much to his amusement, that she probably wants to jump his bones. Jo does too, apparently, and Dean can't really blame them; Castiel is so damn handsome even he has started playing for the other team just for him. “Never have I ever… hmmm… wait, I wasn’t ready.”

Charlie rolls her eyes before taking the lead. “Never have I ever cheated on an exam.”

Dean and Pamela roll their eyes as their friends gasp in horror when they bring their cups to their lips.

“Thanks, Charlie, I wanted to drink anyway,” Dean mutters.

“Please tell me it was in high school,” Benny tells Dean, looking at him dead serious in the eyes, borderline angry.

“Of course! You think I’d risk my scholarship by cheating? My parents would disown me. Benny, it’s your turn.”

Benny chews his lip, thinking for a moment, before he smiles, amused with himself, and says, “never have I ever walked in on my parents doing it.”

Dean makes a disgusted sound and drinks up, accompanied by an equally upset Charlie. She does a full body shiver as she swallows the strong tequila.

“That's not something you come back from,” she mutters.

“Never,” Dean agrees. As happy as he is that his parents have a happy marriage, the memory of their physical affection haunts him after 9 long years after walking in on them. Dean never forgot to knock before coming into their room again.

It takes him a moment to think of something, knowing the whole point is to find something be hasn't done when in reality all he wants to do is drink more. In the end he settles for something simple.

“Never have I ever been in love.”

To his surprise, everyone but him drinks.

He huffs in indignation. “Well, that was a little depressing.”

“Never?” Jo asks him, an edge of pity in his voice. “Not even with Lisa?”

Dean shakes his head. For some reason he feels _bad_ , ashamed of being the only one who has never caught the love bug. Casual relationships have always worked better for him. It's not that he is against relationships or anything like the sort, but simply no one has ever made him feel that way before.

Garth pats his shoulder and gives him an encouraging smile which just makes him feel worse. “You'll find someone soon, Dean.”

Jo and Charlie start giggling in response.

Garth is quick with his turn. “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on _me_ with another person.”

“You guys are trying to get me drunk, right?” Dean jokes as he takes yet another drink. Jo and Charlie drink too.

Dean throws Cas a quick glance. He is quietly sitting there, arm in arm with Jo, watching them drink up with a soft smile on his lips. Dean feels strangely responsible for him and his entertainment, like it is his duty to show him a good time for inviting him and though he is quiet, he does seem to be enjoying himself. He meets Dean's eyes and his smile widens a little. It's almost sweet and so very normal, it makes Dean feel conflicted and a little insane, like the last two weeks and all of Novak's dominant and very sexual behaviour have been all a creation of Dean's imagination. It's like meeting Dr Jekyll for drinks and wondering when Mr Hyde will come out to fuck him hard against the nearest surface.

“My turn!” Jo beams happily. “Never have I ever participated in a threesome!”

“So it begins,” Garth mumbles as he leans towards Cas behind Jo's back. Novak chuckles as they both bring their cups to their lips at the same time Pamela does.

“What the fuck, Garth?” Jo barks a laugh, eyes wide in surprise.

If Garth were a proud guy, he'd most likely be offended by all of his friends’ looks of surprise.

“Dude, when? How?” Dean asks, a mean jealous part of him not being able to believe Garth has had a threesome and not him. Dean never even got close, he got slapped once for trying to propose it.

Garth shrugs and blushes lightly, the sweet guy he is. “I was popular with the girls in high school.”

“You're a total gentleman, I am not surprised at all,” Charlie tells him and blows him a kiss across the table. His smile widens.

“No one is going to be surprised about Castiel and I?” Pamela asks, pretending to be offended as she put a hand to her chest.

Dean dares a quick glance in Castiel's direction and says, “nah, you guys look the type.”

“You're just jealous, Dean,” she replies, smirking.

Jo then turns to Cas, leans against his side, making eyes at him if Dean is seeing straight, and purrs, “your turn, Castiel.”

“I'm not very good at this,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck while he gives her an apologetic look that doesn't match the interest in her eyes. If he is even aware she is flirting with him, Castiel doesn't seem interested, which makes Dean oddly proud of being the only one he seems to be interested in. “How about you go again instead?”

“No, come on, you have to say something!”

“Just say something about Harry Potter, that'll get them drinking,” Benny offers him, although his tone still has an edge of animosity in it.

“Nah, we're in the sex department, come on!” Pamela stops Castiel as he opens his mouth to follow Benny's suggestion. “Come on, we wanna know your dirty secrets.”

Dean's stomach does a flip and he keeps his head down, not wanting to look at anybody. The weight of his secret presses against his chest again and he hopes, he _prays_ , that Castiel won't say anything that'll make Dean have to lie to sll of his friends.

“Never have I ever…” Castiel chews his lip and thinks hard. “Never have I ever promised I'd call and then I didn't.”

“Oh, come on, that's not the juicy stuff we wanna know,” Pamela sighs, then drinks. Jo and Dean do too.

“Leave the guy alone, will ya?” Dean defends Castiel, kicking Pamela under the table. He ends up kicking Charlie instead by accident and she kicks him back in retaliation.

It's Pamela's turn now and she looks like an excited child as she says, very shamelessly turning to face Castiel as she waits for an answer, “never have I ever had a foursome.”

Castiel is the only one who drinks as he is almost trapped between two very giggling, half-drunk girls. Only then, watching them starting to act up, Dean starts to realise the burn on his body, the temperature on his skin, and he knows that as soon as he gets up he will start feeling dizzy.

“Ha! I knew it!” Pamela beams.

“Never have I ever participated in an orgy?” Jo supplies even though it isn't her turn.

Dean rolled her eyes at her. “Come on, you're being- wait, _seriously_?”

Everyone stares as Castiel takes another sip of tequila. He licks his lips like it's water and not hot, burning alcohol, and shrugs.

“How many times?” Pamela asks, fascinated.

“Hey, it's my turn!” Charlie complains. Dean foolishly believes for a moment that Charlie will set the game back on track, but she seems curious about too, so she also turns in his direction when she makes her statement. “Never have I ever done it at work.”

Smiling to himself like he's remembering something funny, Castiel takes another swig of tequila.

By this point, even Benny is curious enough that he forgets for a moment he isn't supposed to like or be interested in Castiel, and addresses him too when his turn comes. “Never have I ever fooled around with someone in _our_ campus.”

Castiel downright laughs, gives Benny a challenging look and then drinks again. His eyes stare right at Dean as he tips his head back to take a sip. Pamela and Benny drink too and that snaps Dean back to reality; he has to drink too. He's fooled around with a lot of people on campus, present company included.

It's Dean's turn and he shouldn't continue with friends’ attempts to unravel Castiel's most intimate secrets, he knows it's different when he asks Castiel's these sorts of questions, but he is too damn intrigued not to do it and Novak clearly doesn't seem to mind being open about it, so despite his better judgment and feeling his mouth go dry, he says, “never have I ever had sex in a bar.”

He drinks again.

And then again when Garth asks the same but in an elevator and then when Jo asks if he's done it in a classroom. By the time it's Castiel's turn, his cup is empty.

“Damn,” Pamela blinks a couple of times, stunned. “And there I went thinking I was the sluttiest in the group. You've put me to shame.”

By the look on Benny's face he is both impressed and slightly freaked out.

“Never have I ever met a sex addict before,” he jokes.

A brief look of resentment in Castiel’s face makes it obvious he didn’t like the comment and Dean can’t help but kick Benny’s leg and throw him a look of disapproval.

“I’m not a sex addict,” Castiel explains calmly after schooling his face. “I just like sex a lot and I’m not afraid to try new things.”

“Amen to that,” Pamela grins, leaning even closer to him and raising her cup to toast.

Castiel stands up abruptly, almost causing Jo to fall off the chair as she was leaning against his side, his backpack on his hand. He looks so tall looking down at Dean, blue eyes shining in the dim light of the room. Almost all at once Dean can see the change in his eyes, Mr Hyde hiding from everyone but him in those baby blues. He sees the hunger with which Castiel watches him like a hawk, the false innocence in his expression as he stares right through Dean’s soul, and he swallows and shivers, remembering everything they’ve ever done all at once. He wonders if the rest can see it too or if they’re luckily too drunk or too incredulous to notice any connection between them.

“Dean,” Castiel starts with a fake gentle voice and a slight curve in the corner of his lips, “would you mind showing me the way to the bathroom? This is a rather big house.”

Dean nods once and starts getting up. He gets suddenly dizzy, the alcohol affecting him at once, and grabs the back of his chair for support.

“I can show you,” Jo offers a little too enthusiastically.

“Nah, don't worry about it, Jo, you're going to lose your chair,” Dean tells her, trying to sound casual and oblivious to her intentions with Castiel. He's going to get an earful for cock-blocking her later. “Here, finish my cup if you want.”

Dean moves his cup towards her and walks around the table to where Castiel waits for him patiently, looking pleased with Dean's obedience.

The tequila making Dead feel braver, he places a hand on Novak's shoulder and starts leading him through the crowded party. In just the brief walk from their table to the stairs they have to push their way through drunk people and couples making out. Dean sees at least 3 girls he slept with and keeps his eyes looking straight forward, pretending he hasn't seen them.

When they finally reach the stairs, Dean helps himself up with the railing, paying attention to every step he takes, his other still firmly holding on to Castiel, who marches in front of him like he didn't just had a full glass of tequila.

As they reach the top of the stairs, Dean gives himself a moment to both stabilize his balance and gather his courage, his room at the end of the hallway ominously waiting for them.

"Dean," Castiel calls him in a steady, almost concerned voice, "are you okay?"

Dean nods a couple of times, his eyes locked on his bedroom door. Once they go in, everything is going to change. He feels like a teenager again, a virgin about to have sex for the first time. Castiel is going to fuck his ass.

He gulps and swallows hard, the alcohol bringing his nerves back to life even stronger than before, but at the same time he feels the warmth and the tingling sensation of arousal building on his groin. He wants this, he's been waiting for days, and now he's finally going to get it.

The few steps towards his door feel longer than usual, his hand trailing along the walls giving him a better sense of reality. His room is empty and dark, neat like he left it in hope that perhaps he would get laid. His wishes are coming true.

He closes and locks the door behind them quickly, afraid to be seen going into his room with not just any guy but Novak of all people. Dean turns on the lamp on his bedside table with shaky fingers and takes a deep breath as he finally turns around to face Castiel. He hasn't moved an inch, still standing by the door, studying Dean through narrowed eyes.

"You're drunk," he states flatly, with an unreadable face.

Dean gives him a moment to say or do something else; by now he's used to Novak making the first move, leading the way. He _likes_ that.

"Well… _Yeah_ ... That's the whole point of playing _never have I ever_. Aren't you?"

"No. Not enough to not to be able to consent, at least."

Dean smirks. "Oh, that's why you're acting weird?"

Castiel lifts an eyebrow. "I'm not acting weird."

"You got up the table pretty fast. Were you afraid of getting too drunk to fuck me?"

"It's _your_ ability to consent that worries me, not mine. And if you really want to know, your friend Pamela had her hand on my crotch-"

Dean doesn’t expect the feeling of possessiveness that stirs in him. " _What?_ "

"-and though we're not exclusive, I thought I should ask you before sleeping with any of your friends. You know, out of courtesy. Besides, she doesn't seem like the type who likes to submit and that's what I want right now."

Dean scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, only offended out of principle.

"And I do?"

He wants to tell Castiel he's never submitted before, that he was mostly always in charge in his past sexual encounters, that he’s a grown ass strong man, but the truth is it doesn't matter anymore and he knows it. What matters is what he wants now, the twisted new fantasies in his mind, all featuring Castiel as the dominant one.

Castiel smiles slowly in that way that makes Dean's cock twitch in his pants and closes the distance between them in just a couple of steps, standing just a foot apart from him. He's close enough that Dean can smell the alcohol in his breath when he speaks.

"You do, and I've been waiting for a chance to fuck you for a long, long time, captain Winchester of The Hunters. You look so pretty in that uniform."

Dean blushes. "Really?" he asks despite himself. He never really liked it, it is uncomfortable, but the thought of Novak lusting for him all this time is exciting and he knows he will be thinking about Castiel eyeing him, his ass, the next time they play against each other. If he plays his cards right, perhaps he'll get Castiel to fuck him afterwards.

Castiel bites his lip and nods. Every little thing he does works to put Dean on edge, to excite him. He looks at those full, sinful lips and all he can do is wonder why the hell they're still talking and not kissing, and perhaps it’s the alcohol in his system melting his inhibitions away, but he can't even begin to be bothered by how much he wants Castiel.

"It's a shame, though," Castiel whispers, tilting his head to the side as gentle hands pull Dean even closer by the front loops of his jeans. Dean stumbles a step closer, fisting the front of Castiel's vest to have something to do with his hands. "It seems we're going to have to wait more."

"What?" Dean frowns, surprised at what he's heard and the feelings of disappointment it causes him to have. "Why?"

"I'm not sure I should trust your consent. You've been drinking."

When Castiel moves to take a step back, Dean moves one closer, neither letting go of the other.

"So have you!" he protests. "I consent. I promise, I consent."

Castiel suppresses the shit-eating grin that's fighting to burst out of him and brings Dean closer by the loops, pressing his groin against Dean's semi-hard erection. Dean would punch the motherfucker if days of anticipation for this moment hadn't made him so horny.

"You little shit, you just wanted me to beg for it, don't you?"

Castiel does his best impression of an innocent, sweet guy and faking concern in his voice, he says, "you were so quiet the last time I saw you... I would feel a lot better if you were more vocal this time."

Dean sighs, exasperated but so damn turned on he begins to rock his hips against Novak, showing him just how much he wants him. "I want you, okay? I consent."

Dean ducks his head in an attempt to kiss Castiel, but he doesn't let him, moving his head away so that Dean only gets access to his neck. Castiel places both hands at either side of Dean's hips and starts to lead Dean's movements, looking at him straight in the eyes as their erections brush against each other.

Raising an eyebrow, voice low with arousal, he asks," _what_ do you want, Dean, exactly?"

He has to beg, Castiel wants him to beg. And it's okay, he figures, because two can play that game. Dean will submit, but he'll beg so pretty Castiel won't have an option but to give in too.

Dean licks his lips and presses them against Castiel's pulse, whispering against his skin the pleas he wants to hear. "I want you to fuck me. Please, Castiel, please fuck me. Been waiting for days." Dean's tongue licks over his pulse, just below the ear, smiling to himself as Castiel's grip on his hips tightens and his breath hitches. "You promised me you'd fuck me soon, remember?” he asks in a fake sad voice, “don't you want me anymore?”

"I wanted to," Castiel replies, voice somewhat more hoarse than before, much to Dean's satisfaction. "I was busy, pet. Got my job back, but I was thinking about you all the time."

 _Pet_. That goes straight to Dean's dick. He never realised how much he could like the whole name calling thing, no one had been rough enough with him, not even verbally.

"You don't have to think anymore, you can fuck me now. Please?"

"Since you asked so nicely..." Castiel pulls away, a dark look in his eyes. "Take your clothes off and get on all fours in the bed."

 _Finally_ is at the tip of Dean's tongue but he knows better. Still, he can't help a small smile of victory as he pulls his T-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. He's never been shy about his body but he hesitates for a moment when he sees Novak undoing the buttons on the wrists of his shirt only to roll up his sleeves. Dean stares at Castiel while he continues to take his own clothes off, feeling self-conscious as he becomes the only of the two getting naked.

"Hmm, aren't you going to take your clothes off?" he asks, confused and, frankly, a little impatient to see more skin.

''It isn't your place to ask questions. Now do as I ordered you."

Dean doesn't argue. He wishes he could see Castiel shirtless again and better appreciate it this time, but he can't deny how much the thought of Novak using him and fucking him with his clothes on arouses him. It’s a power play all over again and Dean is all in for it.

His boxers are the last piece of clothing to go and he stands in his room naked, his back to Castiel. He takes a deep calming breath, his heart beating as loud as the music downstairs, and he climbs on all fours onto the bed. Dean feels extremely exposed, vulnerable, unlike he's ever had before. Every second Castiel isn't touching him feels too long and deep inside his mind he can hear the alarm bells ringing. He wants to tell Castiel to hurry up but before Dean has a chance to start second-guessing his decisions, the mattress sinks a little behind him and a pair of rough hands spread his ass-cheeks apart. Without any warning, Castiel licks a long, fast line from Dean's testicles to his hole. Dean jumps at the strange feeling, his initial reaction being to try to get away from it, but Castiel holds him in place, his fingers digging forcefully into Dean's skin.

"Be my good boy and don't move. If you're in pain, tell me. If not, relax and enjoy it."

Castiel doesn't even wait for an answer before he continues his assault on Dean's ass. Dean tenses, fisting the sheets and curling his toes as lighting bolts shoot through him. He closes his eyes and tries not to squirm, the sensation of Castiel's tongue on his ass going from uncomfortable to simply unfamiliar rather quickly and finally, more slowly, increasingly enjoyable. He never knew he could feel so much from just a tongue there.

Castiel wraps a hand around Dean's cock and lazily pumps him, trying to help him relax. The moment Dean feels Novak's tongue pressing against his hole, he lets out an involuntary shaky breath and lets his head hang from his shoulders.

"Please-" he begs but he isn't even sure what he wants.

Castiel doesn't stop his ministrations, but Dean realises he goes slower, his tongue swirling around his hole more gently, almost retreating, the hand of Dean's clock halting at once. Dean realises that's not what he wants or needs at the moment, he doesn't want Castiel to stop.

"Please, more," he requests instead.

And then Castiel, his hands, his tongue, his warmth, is completely gone. Dean gives himself a moment to catch his breath, unclench and toes his hands. His dick is aching between his legs, waiting for the return of a hand. Dean wonders for a moment if he fucked up somehow, if he did something Castiel didn't like, but when he looks over his shoulder, he's goddamn happy to see him applying lube to his fingers.

"Where did you-"

Castiel interrupts him before he can even finish the question. "Why did you think I brought a backpack?"

Before Dean has time to even think of something, Castiel is back behind him pressing a finger against his entrance, penetrating him slowly. If Dean had thought the tongue felt weird, the finger was worse. It didn't hurt as he'd imagined, the cold lube allowing Castiel to move without a problem, but he did already feel full with just one finger, so he couldn't imagine how he could possibly fit Castiel's dick. Dean knows that if he thinks about it too much he will end up worrying, so instead he concentrates in Castiel, who is watching his finger come in and out of Dean while he has his bottom lip between his teeth like it’s goddamn Christmas for him. He looks so pleased, so turn on by what he's doing, it gives Dean the oddest sense of pride.

Suddenly Castiel turns his wrist to the side, curling his finger inside Dean just right, touching his prostate.

"Fuck!" Dean exclaims as the new intense pleasure erupts from within him.

He can't help but lean backwards into Novak's hand, chasing the pleasure, and Castiel gives it to him again, one, two, three times. His cock leaks pre-cum into the sheets and Dean thinks soon he'll paint them white if Castiel continues like that before they even get to the grand finale. It feels too good, so deep and breath-taking, replacing every other possible thought with just a single feeling.

"You're doing so well, pet. It'll be over soon."

When Castiel's hands leave him again, Dean can't help falling into his elbows, panting hard. His mind a silent blank page of pleasure, he can't even begin to worry about what's about to happen. Everything Castiel does ends up feeling good anyway, so he trusts the guy by now.

But when Castiel is back and pushing something against his ass for a third time, it isn't a finger or his cock. Dean realises immediately what it is and the vanilla side of him finds it more embarrassing that the thought of a regular dick penetrating him. He raises to his hands again and looks over his shoulders, watching as Castiel finishes pushing a buttplug inside him, stretching him more and more, almost knocking the air out of Dean’s lungs.

"What is that?"

Castiel raises an eyebrow gives him a knowing smile as he massages one of Dean's ass cheeks. "I think you know."

"But- why?"

"I'm not going to fuck you today. I want you to wear this for a week," Novak explains as he begins to use the toy to fuck in and out of Dean, who tries hard to concentrate and listen while the plug brushes his prostate over and over again. "Then, when you're stretched properly for me, I'll fuck your virgin ass so hard you'll feel me for days. And you'd better be good and obey me, because I will drop in whenever I want to check that this is on you."

Castiel inserts the plug as far as it'll go and smacks his hand hard on Dean's ass. He moans and yelps, barely giving any resistance as Castiel pushes him onto his back. When Dean opens his eyes, Novak is straddling his lap, undoing his belt and zipper in a hurry.

"One hand on me, the other on you. Make us cum, boy."

Dean doesn't need to be told twice. As soon as Castiel's erection is out, he takes it in his hand and starts pumping him faster than he does himself. Dean knows he looks debauched, or at least he certainly feels so, so he makes a show out of it for Castiel, moaning his name, biting his lip. When he closes his eyes, between the pleasure and the alcohol, he feels like he's floating, lost in Castiel.

Suddenly Novak’s weight is on top of him, hands at either side of Dean's head. His hips move fast, fucking into Dean's hand, while his lips hover over Dean's. Castiel's tongue licks Dean's lower lick teasingly and Dean meets him halfway for a hungry kiss, one he'd been waiting for for days.

With Castiel in his mouth, his ragged breathing in his ears and all this warmth surrounding Dean, he comes hard over his stomach, clenching around the toy in his ass. His rhythm stutters and he loses himself on his orgasm. Castiel takes over then, wrapping his hand over Dean’s to lead him. He picks up the pace, their hands working together on his sock.

“You’re so good, Dean, such a whore for me,” he whispers into Dean’s ear before nipping his earlobe. “Can’t wait- can’t wait to paint your insides white with my cum, pet.”

Dean just nods as his breathing calms down, then leans his head to the side to capture Castiel’s lips again. He tightens his grip of Novak’s dick, paying more attention to what he’s doing, twisting his hand around the head of the cock just the way he likes it when he touches himself. He only needs to do that twice and Castiel is coming on their hands, spilling more cum into the mess in Dean’s stomach. Dean works him through the high, a satisfied grin breaking through, a sense of relief and content washing over him. He could go to sleep right the fuck now, cum or no  cum on his stomach.

Castiel gets up from the bed, takes a deep breath and then exhales slowly, smiling to himself. He turns to his backpack on the ground and takes out a water bottle and a small towel.

“Damn, you came really prepared,” Dean mutters tiredly.

“Like I said, I’ve been thinking about you for days.”

Dean lets Castiel clean him up after he wets the towel. Castiel is more gentle, cleaning their hands first and then Dean’s stomach. Dean is too out of it to pay much attention, sinking into the comfortable warmth of his bed, feeling like a happy burrito when Novak puts a blanket over him.

“Could you tell my friends I passed out or something?” he asks Castiel. He is fighting the urge to just close his eyes, roll over to his side and doze off,

Dean sees Castiel nod just before he turns the lamp off and walks towards the door.

“Oh, and Cas…” Dean makes a huge effort to lift himself up a little. Castiel turns around to look at him, his face barely lit up by the light in the hallway. “Don’t fuck any of my friends, please.”

He hates how needy he sounds but he needs to know Castiel won’t go downstairs and try to get Jo to submit to him too. It’s not that he’s jealous, he just doesn’t want his friends to know what kind of guy he really is, in case they suspect something’s going on between them. And if he also gets a little possessive, it’s only because Novak is already busy as fuck and Dean doesn’t want to wait even longer until he’s got free time to meet up.

“You have my word I won’t. Goodnight, Dean. I’ll see you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love your comments, it keeps me inspired.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay!!! I've started a new job and I have so little free time now, adulting is sad. I was writing bits all over the place; in the metro, in the bus, in my breaks.   
> Here is another chapter of our fave disaster bi boys.

It feels fucking weird to have lunch with his roommates while he has a plug on his ass but Dean obeys anyway. He squirms on his seat, trying to get comfortable, while the guys share stories of the girls they hooked up with the night before. When Ash asks Dean who he hooked up with because he disappeared so early, he has a moment of panic in which he just stares back, completely taken aback by the question. Benny unknowingly comes to his rescue and jokes Dean is becoming a lightweight. Dean would normally defend his honor as a heavy drinker, which he realises it's a weird thing to be proud of, and simply admits with a shrug that he fell asleep... which technically isn't entirely a lie, so he doesn't feel entirely bad for withholding the juiciest bit of information.

With the excuse of needing to study, which again isn't complete bullshit, he locks himself away for the rest of the day in his room. He doesn't want company, not when he's getting used to having something up his ass, so if he is pseudo hiding in his room, then sue him.

He manages to study for a solid couple of hours until the first interruption occurs in the shape of a text message from Jo, who asks him if he knows if Castiel is seeing someone. Dean tries to avoid replying to the question by telling her she should stop trying to go out with all his friends because it makes it weird for him when things don't work out. Again, a half truth.

Then Pamela, who is more upfront, texts him about 40 minutes later to ask him directly for Castiel's number. Dean bites his lower lip, debating with himself whether he should comply or not. He understands her interest in Castiel, but he definitely doesn't want to be sleeping with the same dude she is, so he just tells her that he knows Castiel isn't interested.

The third distraction lasts much longer. When he puts the plug back on after a short visit to the bathroom, he can't help getting turned on a little. Dean tries to ignore it and keep studying but his treacherous mind keeps slipping quick reminders of how great it felt when Castiel fucked him with the plug the night before and soon enough his semi hard dick becomes too uncomfortable to ignore. Not without locking his door first, Dean settles in bed comfortably with the computer on his lap. When he opens the usual porn website he likes to masturbate to, he hesitates for the first time as his fingers hover over the keyword, waiting to fill in the search for the day. When he writes  _ male gay porn _ , he likes to think it's because he wants to know what to expect for his next encounter with Castiel and not because that's the only thing he's in the mood for.

When an eternal list appears in front of him, he doesn't know where to start. Heart hammering in his chest, cock pulsing in interest, his eyes scan all the possibilities in a haste. Everywhere he looks, it's naked men of all sizes and shapes, and it's fucking exhilarating. He settles for a pair of young men who resemble himself and Castiel in age and body type. Dean puts his headphones on, presses play and sits back on the headboard. The movie, which has a homemade feel to it, doesn't waste time with a stupid introduction, much to Dean's liking. The young men begin kissing, undressing each other, then one gets to his knees. After a while he gets up, has his ass eaten up by the other and, finally, he gets fucked. Dean watches, perplexed and barely breathing, stroking himself lazily. He doesn't want to come, not yet he wants to see more…

Which is how he ends up masturbating intermittently for an hour, edging himself until he can't stand his own teasing anymore, no matter that his curiosity isn't fully satiated yet, and he cums with a lot of new images in his head.

Dean deletes the browser's history before taking a second shower that day.

For Monday's morning practice, he decides to take the plug out but puts it back on right after his shower. He feels kinky as fuck applying lube on the plug on the school's bathroom stall, hearing his friends talking and getting ready just a door away, and he likes it. It still feels strange and Dean is constantly aware of it, with every step he takes, every time he has to bend over to pick up something, whenever he sits down, but he knows it's for the better, so it won't hurt when Castiel finally gives him the real deal.

After practice, he goes to pick up lunch for himself and Charlie, before meeting up with her, to a little store she loves just a couple of minutes away from campus. When he's pulling over to park the car and he sees Castiel coming out of the store, he nearly has a heart attack and crashes into another car as he reverses the car. Novak is in a suit, as usual, with that trench-coat that oddly suits him, holding a bag as he walks in a hurry side by side with a brunette with curly hair who smiles up at him the entire time like he's a walking miracle.

_ What is it with this guy, does everyone want to fuck him? _

The moment Dean gets out of the car, Castiel catches sight of him and his pace stutters for a moment as he does a double take on him. Dean feels his legs like jelly when Novak smiles at him. It's always disconcerting to see him in a different way from the guy Dean submits to.

"Dean!"

Castiel shifts his direction to meet in the middle, his friend following him closely like a puppy.

"Hey, Novak, how are you? What are you guys up to? Your bruise," Dean lifts his hand to Castiel's face, then automatically puts it down before he can touch Novak inappropriately out in public. He clears his throat, burying his hands on his pockets, and says, "it's nearly gone."

"I'm well, thank you, it doesn't even hurt anymore. We're on lunch break," Castiel replies in a good nature that puts Dean on edge, moving his bag on his arms as if Dean, the idiot, hadn't seen them already. "How are you? Are you well after Saturday?"

Dean blinks a couple of times, speechless with embarrassment as Novak smiles at him like Dean doesn't know what he's trying to do. He looks back and forth between Castiel and the brunette, who doesn't seem too happy to be left out of the conversation and obviously has no idea of the implications of Castiel's question, before he looks down at his shoes and nods, scratching the back of his neck. He shifts from one foot to the other, feeling the plug inside him.

"Yup, everything is well."

When he looks up, Novak has an air of amusement about him that makes Dean want to punch him for being such a tease.

"I'm glad. I've got to go, but I'll see you around."

Dean nods again. "Sure, see ya."

After that, Dean mentally slaps himself for still not having his shit together around Novak and keeps an eye out in case he receives a text while he's studying with Charlie. Sure, he had to wait a week for the main event but he wouldn't mind hooking up with Castiel in other ways in between.

A lot of gay porn and a couple of days later, on Thursday, Dean finally gets a text from Castiel while he is out with the gang in their favourite bar. Novak asks him where he is, Dean tells him and sure enough his dominant top walks in the front door with a couple of friends not half an hour later. Dean is thankful that the bar is so crowded neither Pamela or Jo notice him coming in. He watches Castiel advancing with his group through the labyrinth of tables, waitresses and drunk students, laughing and whispering something into one of his friend's ears, a short girl with dark hair and a  _ don't fuck with me _ air about her, before disappearing as they settle somewhere out of sight. Dean can't help but wonder if Castiel will fuck that girl tonight since he isn't fucking Dean, and by the way they were talking into each other's ears and the rumours about him around campus, it seems likely. The guy has a reputation for being an innocence and heterosexuality breaker, according to Charlie's newest girlfriend, who attends Novak's school. 

Dean throws impatient, quick glances at his watch, tapping his foot repetitively, when 5, 10, then 15 minutes go by and Castiel doesn't send him another text.

He wonders if he's supposed to go looking for Castiel, but he resist the urge, not wanting to seem like the eager beaver he feels like.

And yet, when Castiel texts him to tell him to meet in the bathroom, he jumps off his stool feeling like a kid on his way to opening some well deserved Christmas present, a thought that causes him to want to slap himself, and tells his friends some bullshit story about how he forgot to call his mom and needs to get to it right away.

When he gets to the short hallway that leads to the bathrooms, which are individual, tiny gender-neutral rooms, Castiel is waiting for him there, looking as handsome as usual, his dark hair all over the place and the blue eyes almost shining in the dark. Dean barely has a chance to say hello before Novak opens the closest door and pulls Dean in. They barely fit inside the four walls together, but Dean doesn't mind, he's not looking for personal space that night.

Castiel closes the door behind him and pushes Dean backwards until he's almost sitting in the sink behind him, bracing himself on the porcelain to keep his balance. Castiel settles between his legs, hands exploring underneath Dean's shirt as he dives in for a kiss. Dean jumps at the contact with Castiel's cold hands and gasps. Novak takes the chance to deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth, their bodies fully pressed against each other's. Dean throws his arms around Castiel's neck and kisses him back with the same hunger, rocking their hips together in rhythm.

Dean can feel Novak's erection growing against his own and he smiles into the kiss. He grabs the other's tie to hold him in place and for a moment he just drinks in the feeling of being surrounded by Castiel, trapped in his arms, lost in his after-shave smell, his possessive little growls. Dean loves it, he flies fucking high with excitement. Having Castiel there, suit and all, pushing him against a sink in some bar, a hand trailing down to Dean's ass underneath his boxers, is ten times hotter than any porn he'd seen all week.

Castiel cups his ass for just a moment before his hand continues his path. When he finds the plug, he breaks the kiss and smiles with satisfaction, lips extra pink and swollen from kissing.

"Have you been a good boy, Dean?" Castiel asks in a voice that is pure sex. "Did you wear the plug like I told you?"

Dean nods, breathless. "Except for football practice," he confesses.

Castiel chuckles. He looks amazing, beautiful, a god of sex. "I'll allow it," he says.

Slowly, he starts moving the plug in and out of Dean, holding his stare almost challengingly.

"How does it feel, pet?"

Dean takes a deep breath, pulling himself together before he replies, "good, I- it doesn't bother me anymore."

"It doesn't bother you? That's all?" Castiel asks, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow. He plays with the toy faster, deeper, rougher, making Dean start to shiver. "You don't like it too? You're not curious of what more would feel like?"

"You know I am, you little shit," Dean groans, closing his eyes for a moment. Castiel laughs. Dean swallows hard and opens his eyes, staring right back at Castiel in defiance. "Are you going to fuck me or not?"

"It's not Saturday yet," Novak mocks Dean in faked lament. "Maybe if you beg me again, I'll reconsider."

Dean huffs, trying to come off as exasperated, but Castiel's cocky smile only widens as Dean's impatient hands begin to undo his belt and pants.

"I'm stretched, I promise I'm stretched. It's been three fucking weeks since we started fooling around, are you going to fuck me or not, huh?"

Castiel can't help but snort as Dean begins to kiss his neck in an attempt to provoke him. "And if I remember correctly, you were playing straight for half of that time. You only have yourself to blame.”

“I thought about you for days, okay? Is that what you want me to say? Want me to tell you how many times I touched myself thinking of what you're going to do with me?” Dean bites Castiel's neck hard, eliciting a hiss from him. He shoves his hand down Novak's boxers and palms his erection, feeling the heat, the precome. “I am ready and I am here, so come on and fuck me.”

He doesn't except Castiel to really react, so he yelps, surprised, when the other forces him to turn around in a quick, rough movement. Dean braces himself with one hand in the mirror and the other in the sink and huffs a nervous laugh while Novak pushes his jeans down. Heart hammering against his chest, he waits, nervous but deeply excited, while Castiel spreads his cheeks apart and pulls the plug out.

“Look at you, you're so pretty, Dean,” Novak whispers on his ear while he teases Dean with the tip of his cock, smearing precome in his ass. “Tell me you want it, straight boy.”

Dean bites his lip and catching sight of himself in the mirror, cheeks flustered, breathing heavily. He's shivering. Behind him, Castiel is looking down at his ass.

He closes his eyes.

“I want it,” he replies, a little too softly in such a loud place, but Castiel hears him.

Castiel kisses the place where Dean's neck and shoulder meet, licking and nipping at his skin. It feels good, too fucking good, and his dick jumps where it hangs proudly hard, begging for attention.

“Please,” he sighs, “I want it.”

Novak chuckles, then places a rather sweet peck to his neck and says, “as much as I'd love to give it to you, I'm not going to let you lose your virginity in a bathroom.”

Two fingers press into Dean's hole, slowly penetrating him tentatively. They come in easily, so Cas starts pumping them in and out faster, Dean squirming in pleasure against the sink.

“See, I own you, pet, but I am a gentleman too. Your first time, you'll be in my bed,” he tells Dean, voice low and manly, “naked and needy and ready for me. In my bedroom you can be as loud as you want, you won't have to hold back. Wouldn't that be nice?”

Dean bites his lip harder, fighting to keep quiet and nods. Castiel twists his hand, stroking his prostate over and over again. Dean grips the sink harder, his knuckles turning white.

“Wouldn't it, Dean?” Novak insists.

“Yes!” he cries, letting his head drop as he pushes back on Castiel's fingers. “Fuck, yes, please don't stop.”

Castiel grabs the hand Dean's got on the sink and leads it to his cock. Dean doesn't need any instructions, he starts working on it with the same intensity Castiel gives him pleasure. 

Dean cums first, white starts clouding his vision. Castiel is behind him all the time, whispering dirty words into his ear, breathing hard, grunting in pleasure. Dean strokes himself as he cums, spilling into the floor, and not too long afterwards Castiel follows. Warm strings of cum land on Dean's asscheck and he bets Novak aimed at him on purpose. He doesn't mind though, and he allows Castiel to lead Dean's hand as he enjoys the high of his orgasm. When he's done, he lets go of his hand and rests his forehead against Dean's shoulder while both of them catch their breath.

Castiel pulls away completely from Dean. He's left feeling a little cold, half naked in the bathroom, but Novak is back a moment after, cleaning his cum off of Dean's ass with rough toilet paper, though he can still definitely feel some of it sticking to his skin. He’ll have to take a shower when he backs home, but Dean sort of likes the idea of going back to his friends with Castiel's cum on his ass, it feels dirty, perverted.

After Castiel puts the plug back inside, Dean pulls his jeans up as best he can considering one hand is dirty with cum and there isn't much space to move. Castiel helps him pull it over his ass, a dopey, somewhat tired smile on his face when Dean looks over his shoulder to thank him. By then Novak's already tucked his shirt back on his trousers and accommodated his belt.

They wash their hands in a silence that is neither comfortable nor awkward, Dean throwing curious glances at Novak while he yawns. He looks like he is ready to go to bed.

"Long day?" he asks to fill the silence, automatically hating how lame he sounds.

Novak nods. "A lot of work at the office. This time a day, a good orgasm makes me sleepy."

Dean chuckles. "Yeah, I get that."

Castiel returns his smile but doesn't make an effort to keep the conversation going as he sets his tie straight again.

_ And why should he? We're not friends. He got what he wanted, so did I… _

Before he has a chance to say anything else, Castiel is back on his personal space, crowding him against the wall, pressing a chaste but still possessive kiss to his mouth. He barely moves an inch away when he promises Dean to see him on Saturday, then walks out the door while Dean blinks dumbly a couple of times.

He can't fucking wait to Saturday. In fact, it's all he thinks about that night and the following day. If a month ago somebody would have told him Dean Winchester was going to be counting down the days to get fucked in the ass, he would have laughed in their face. Now he is his number one rival's eager bitch. 

Dean wakes up abnormally early on Saturday morning, unable to sleep from the anticipation. He takes a shower, cleaning himself up thoroughly and resisting the temptation to jack off, and turns down plans with his friends to watch a movie in the afternoon. He'd never admit it to Novak but he actually spends the entire morning on edge, waiting for instructions.

When they finally come around noon, Dean gets a little hard just reading them. Novak wants him to go to his apartment at 6 p.m. and wait naked on the bed, laying down on his stomach, until he comes home.

The rest of the day can't go fast enough. Dean tries to work on his readings but quits after spending 10 minutes on the first page. He deserves a break he decides, but when he closes his computer, he's got no idea what to do with himself. After cleaning his room and doing his laundry, he decides to call Sam. For a while his little brother is a good distraction. Sam promises to visit Dean soon, but he doesn't take the idea seriously because he knows his parents can't afford it and Sammy, the nerd, is too busy with school to get a part-time job. Still Dean indulges him and lists all the places they would go together.

If Dean leaves a little early it's because he wants to make sure he finds a good parking spot for his dear Impala. He waits a couple of minutes in the car, listening to his favourite Led Zeppelin tracks. He stares at the coffee shop he's parking in front of for a while, debating with himself whether it would be too weird if he bought some food for them since he is starting to get hungry and Novak is a disaster bi with a sad, empty kitchen. In the end he decides against it.

It's five minutes to 6 when he finally makes his way to the apartment. He knocks, just in case, but lets himself in with his key a second later. The place is empty like he expected.

Dean makes his way to the bedroom and starts to undress. He feels cool on the surface but burning hot on the inside. He folds his jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket, leaves them on a pile by the foot of the bed and lays down like Castiel ordered him. The sheets are soft, the mattress way better than the shitty thing Dean has back at the dorm. He grabs one of the pillows and hugs it, making himself comfortable. It smells like Novak.

He waits. Between the soft friction with the sheets and the excitement of what is to come soon, he starts to get hard. Dean rolls his hips slowly against the bed until he's fully hard, then makes an effort to stop. He wonders how long Castiel is going to make him wait. Dean wishes he could check the time on his phone but doesn't want to risk Novak arriving when he isn't in position.

When Castiel finally shows up, Dean feels his nerves dancing on his stomach like butterflies. He hears the footsteps but doesn't turn around, instead hugging the pillow closer to his chest.

All of a sudden a hand smacks his as once, hard. Dean jumps, startling, and hisses at the brief pain. He waits for more, but Castiel cups his ass, massaging it.

"You're such an obedient boy," Castiel praises him. "Look at you, all ready for me."

Dean waits, secretly hoping Novak isn't in a mood to torture him today. It's not that he wants it to be over, but he's been waiting for it for longer than he'd hoped for.

For once, his prayers are answered. Castiel takes his clothes off fast, Dean hears him hurrying to undress. Then the mattress dips when Novak kneels behind him and two hands spread his cheeks apart. Castiel takes the plug out and immediately begins to rim Dean. 

"Fuck!" Dean gasps into the pillow as Castiel's tongue moves with expertise.

Castiel grabs Dean by the hips and pulls his ass up, forcing him up to his knees, licking around, in and out of his hole almost aggressively. Dean buries his face in the pillow, muffling his moans, but Castiel yanks it away and throws it into the floor.

"I want to hear you," he growls, voice deeper than ever.

Two fingers find little resistant as Castiel pushes them in and begins fucking Dean fast and roughly, a preview of what is to come soon. Dean curses under his breath and pants and moans, moving his ass back into Castiel's hand seeking more and more pleasure. He's eager, already close, trying to hold back and wishing it could last forever, but desperate to cum too, feeling the white, hot pleasure building.

"Please!" he begs. "I want- I want more. I don't want to cum yet."

"Are you close, pet?"

Dean nods several times, chest heaving, fingers clawing at the sheets.

"Good," Castiel whispers, and Dean could swear he hears the smirk on his face, "you'll enjoy the burn then."

Suddenly, Castiel's hands are gone as quickly as they came. Dean turns his head to the side and sees Novak fishing for something on the pockets on his trousers, butt naked. He's glorious, perfect, with a firm ass and thick thighs, the muscles on his back so different from those of women and still so attractive and sensual. Dean lets out a hysterical little laugh, wondering how he could have never realised he was bisexual before. There is nothing more he wants but to be fucked by that gorgeous body.

Castiel finds his wallet and takes out a small package of lube but ignores the condom. Dean's rock hard dick jumps between his legs, excited at the thought of having cum inside him soon, of getting marked by Castiel, the first guy to ever fuck him. When Castiel turns around, cock hard in hand, lubed up and ready to go, Dean can't tear his eyes away.

"Ready for it, Winchester?"

Dean swallows hard and nods, eyes travelling up to meet Castiel's. "Fuck, yeah."

Castiel chuckles under his breath while he gets in position again behind Dean. Dean's heart beats faster than ever as two hands once again spread him open and the tip of Castiel's cock pushes against his hole. He lets his forehead rest on the bed, closing his eyes as he tries to relax. 

Novak is gentle at first, pushing in slowly, carefully, testing the body beneath him. Dean holds his breath as he gets penetrated, his mouth hanging open in a silent cry, muscles in his entire body tensing up against the intrusion. He feels so full, like he's about to burst, like there's not even room to fill his lungs with air, and there's a delicate ache inside him, a burning feeling in contrast to the accumulated pleasure as Castiel's dick advances inside him.

Behind him, Castiel sighs contently when he's balls deep into Dean, a thumb drawing circles in Dean's skin in an attempt to soothe him.

"Relax,'' he orders Dean, his tone authoritative with the slightest hint of concern. He's holding back, Dean realises. "Unclench your body, boy. Breathe."

Dean takes a slow breath in, feeling Castiel inside him all the way to his core. He realises he is shaking from how much he is tensing his muscles and he tries to stop, he tries to relax.

Suddenly, Castiel is on top of him, a hand between Dean's shoulder pushing him face first into the bed. Dean's knees give in too and he just lays there under Castiel. Then Novak plants his hands over Dean's, who automatically unclenches them from the sheets to interlock their fingers together without thinking.

"I told you to relax," Castiel repeats into his ear, then starts to move, pulling out slowly only to pull back in with a quick, sharp movement of his hips that has Dean gasping a needy, involuntary moan. He does it once, twice, pushing his weight on Dean's. "That's it, just take it. You're going to like it, just like everything I do to you."

Holding his weight on his hands, Castiel starts to move progressively faster, pushing impossibly deeper, never minding his rough pace as Dean gasps with each movement.

"I own you, you're mine," Castiel whispers into his ear, then nips and kisses his neck. It sends shivers down all of Dean's body, all the way down to his cock trapped between his body and the bed, and he moves his head to expose it more, giving Novak more access. Castiel laughs at him and bites down on his skin, probably leaving a mark. "Such a needy, slutty pet."

Castiel sinks all the way in and rolls his hips, causing Dean to cry out in pleasure. 

"Yes, fuck, yes! Do that again!"

"What's the magic word?" Castiel teases him.

"Please. Please...  _ sir _ ."

Novak groans and immediately starts giving Dean what he wants, rolling his hips over and over again harshly, any possible remaining traces of gentleness gone. Dean's body bounces with each pounding, the friction on his dick quickly driving him towards his orgasm despite the burning in his ass. He feels it coming, from the tip of his toes, to his caged member and his mind, which seems to explode with the most overwhelming pleasure. He cries out shamelessly, squirming underneath Castiel as the other continues to fuck him ruthlessly, chasing his own orgasm as he works Dean during a long high. 

After a few more thrusts, Castiel's rhythm stutters and Dean feels his cock pulsing inside him, warm cum spilling inside. Castiel sighs in satisfaction, resting his forehead between Dean's shoulders as he lazily rolls his hips. They both stay like for a couple of seconds, enjoying the post-sex bliss and each other's warmth. 

"I'm going to enjoy using you so much, frat boy," Castiel mutters tiredly.

Dean is too out of it to respond, too comfortable, satisfied and tired. All he can do is hum in acknowledgment.

When Castiel pulls out and gets up from the bed, there is a pause of just a couple of seconds before Dean feels the cum slowly coming out of him. He's too tired to care and even if it is a little odd and uncomfortable, he enjoys feeling owned, rapidly melting into the comfortable bed as he rolls onto his side, away from his own cum on the sheets. The combination of waking up too early and the post-sex haze soothe him to sleep. Dean tells himself he'll indulge for a moment before forcing his eyes open and doing the walk of shame to the car with cum dripping out of him.

Castiel is back just seconds after, with a wet but warm cloth to clean Dean with a softness with which he'd never treated him before.

"You don't have to do that, " Dean mumbles, sleepy. "I'll be up in a minute."

"It's fine, take your time, Dean."

Dean sighs, fully content and satisfied for the first time in weeks, feeling heavy and tired but in a good way. He hears Castiel quietly opening drawers, probably dressing up, then feels a soft blanket being laid on top of him before Novak's footsteps walk away and the bedroom door closes.

Alone in the room, Dean enjoys the bliss of his orgasm, laying naked in a good mattress with nice, soft sheets. It must be nice being Castiel, having his own apartment, a fancy stable job and both guys and women fighting for a chance to sleep with him. It makes Dean feel slightly special, being chosen by him. He just hopes Castiel doesn't get bored of him too quickly, Dean would rather keep fucking with him in secret to avoid messing around with someone else and risking people finding out that he likes being someone's on-call bitch.

Dean's mind wanders, his thoughts mixing and getting blurry, incoherent, then all of a sudden he starts and opens his eyes, alarmed by the feeling of having fallen asleep in an inappropriate place.

"Shit," he mutters to himself as he jumps out of bed, flooded by uneasiness as he imagines his dominant top waiting in the other room for Dean to fucking leave already.

In a haste he gets dressed and leaves the bedroom with an apology ready in the tip of his tongue, but when he finds an adorably concentrated Castiel reading on the couch with a plate of (burnt) waffles and fruits on his lap, he can't help but stop and stare. Castiel is frowning at his book, a forgotten piece of waffle on his fork. He looks tired, like is fighting to concentrate. Outside, the last lights of the day are fading.

When Dean clears his throat, Castiel looks up alarmed, like he'd forgotten there was another person in the apartment.

"Oh, you're up."

"Yeah, sorry, I must have dozed off. Have I been out long?"

"About an hour," Castiel shrugs. "It's okay, it gave me time to make waffles. Gabriel- my brother, he got me a waffle maker so I could eat sometimes because it's fast and easy..."

Castiel looks down at his burnt waffles and sighs.

"I did burnt them though,'' he mutters to himself. "Again..." 

The corner of Dean's lips curve upwards as he fights back laughter. Castiel seems entirely different from the guy that whispers filthy things to him and finger-fucks him in public bathrooms. He looks… cute. And like a hot mess.

"What do you mean by  _ 'eat sometimes' _ ?" Dean asks, too curious not to.

"Well, I'm a terrible cook," Castiel explains, gesturing down at this plate, "so I usually order food, eat out or skip meals if I'm too tired to eat."

Dean face-palms himself and starts to chuckle. Too tired to eat is a concept Dean Winchester will never understand.

"I can't believe you burnt waffles, they're the easiest thing to make."

Castiel gives him an apologetic smile. "I left the least burnt ones for you."

Dean practically chokes on his tongue as he abruptly stops laughing.

"You made me waffles?"

"Well, it's dinner time. Having something sweet after sex can prevent a drop."

"A what?'

"A drop. In BDSM, it is something like a depressive state subs might go through after sex. Our encounters aren't that intense, but I still like to make sure my subs eat something after sex. So, grab your plate, it's inside the oven. Should still be warm.”

Dean blinks a couple of times, completely taken aback by the kind gesture. His first instinct is to want to flee, escape the unexpected sweetness that he doesn't know how to handle. He looks sideways towards the door, eager to end his over-extended visit. This new development, eating together, Castiel taking care of him, it was never what Dean expected to get from the bet and he hasn't prepared for it, he doesn't know how to act.

"Oh, hmm..." Dean scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding meeting Castiel's eyes. "That's alright, I'll eat when I get home."

"Dean," Novak starts in that tone that sends shivers down his spine and demands attention. Dean looks up to see Castiel staring at him with a dominant attitude and he knows he has no choice but to obey even in this aspect. "Eat."

Even though he's satisfied and even if his ass burns still, a thrill of excitement runs through him as it usually does when Castiel orders him around. He rolls his eyes, forever pretending to be stubborn and combative even if they both know Castiel has him wrapped around his finger, then he drags his feet towards the kitchen. The waffle machine is still dirty, the smell of burnt food still lingering in the air. Dirty bowls and utensils are piled in the sink. Dean is confused, wondering how the hell Castiel made such a mess when all Dean needs to make waffles is one bowl and a fork.

Inside the oven, which looks brand new and completely unused, is his plate with three slightly burned but edible waffles and a tiny pile of pieces of bananas, strawberries and kiwis. He grabs the plate and while feeling extremely subconscious about his every movement, Dean makes his way to the couch and sits at a respectable distance from Castiel. His host is reading again, taking deep calming breaths as he tries to pay attention while he chews on more waffles. Dean grabs one with his and takes a bite. It isn't half bad but it could certainly use either some more salt or sugar.

"Dude, it's Saturday night and not finals season, give it a rest. You look exhausted.”

Castiel sighs. "That's because I  _ am _ exhausted. I woke up at 5 am for work today."

"You work Saturdays?"

"When they ask me."

"Yikes."

Castiel huffs a laugh. "Yikes indeed. It is the price of success, or so my dad always told me."

"Yeah, okay, but it can't be good for your brain to overwork yourself like that," Dean argues. He takes Castiel's book from his hand, ignoring the protests the other makes and sets it far away on the coffee table. "Come on, time for a break."

"I already took a break when I fucked you, Dean."

Dean's cheeks turn a hot shade of pink but he ignores Castiel as best he can as he looks around the room for the remote. 

"Aha!" he exclaims when he finds it behind some books, covered in dust. Dean returns to the couch and turns the TV on but all he sees is a blank, black screen.

"I don't have cable," Castiel explains.

"Netflix?"

Castiel tilts his head to the side like he is not entirely sure what that is.

"Jesus, are you a time traveller? How can you not know what Netflix is? Why do you even have a TV?"

"My brother gave it to me as a birthday present but I don't have the time to watch anything."

"You need to relax or you're going to be one of those sad fuckers who die of stress at 55."

"You can't die of stress. Most likely a heart attack-"

"It's just a saying, Cas, don't be so literal!"

Dean closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose, gathering his patience as he fights back the urge to shut Castiel up with a kiss. He is sometimes infuriating, so damn weird and nerve-wracking.

But then Dean looks up and Castiel is looking at him with a boyish smile, blue eyes kind and amused. Dean just doesn't know what to do when he acts so normal and... sweet.

"What?"

Castiel smiles broadly and says, "you called me Cas."

Dean blushes without reason and it's about to deny it when he realises that he did, indeed, call Castiel 'Cas'.

"Well, you call me all sorts of things," he defends himself childishly.

"And Cas is your big comeback to being called pet, frat boy?"

Dean sighs, sinking into the couch and wishing it would just swallow him up already. "It just came out, don't make it weird. Also, don't change the subject; you need to relax."

"How?"

"What do you mean  _ how _ ? You're- I-" Dean takes a deep breath, throws his arms up in the air and declares, "fuck it, I'm logging into my Netflix account and we're watching Harry Potter. Buckle up, Cas, there are 8 movies."   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me very happy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE  
> No, but in all seriousness I have been busy as FUCK. I am finally ALL moved in and in a HILARIOUS turn of events my life has turned into my own fucking fanfiction; I am now dating a real life gentle dom Cas, guys.  
> So yeah, adulting + husband + dating = not a lot of free time.  
> (the hubby knows about this other guy, btw, don't freak out)  
> AAAAAND I LOVED all your lovely lovely comments <3 <3 <3 YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET <3 Your comments keep me alive and inspired to continue.

It's actually nice spending time with Castiel. He's not crazy, like Dean thought at the beginning of the bet, or an asshole, like he always pictured him to be in his mind while he secretly antagonized Cas. He's quiet and calm, looks eternally tired and likes to lean against Dean's side while they watch the movie. It's oddly intimate, like they've been friends forever so they can be this close in comfortable silence... Except it weirds the shit out of Dean. Rough, mindless sex he gets. Cuddling or doing something that is way too close to it, in the other hand, isn't in Dean's usual repertoire. He can't say it isn't enjoyable; the warmth coming from Castiel is nice and he likes hearing him huff a laugh under his breath so close to Dean's ear during the funny parts, but that's just it, it's too domestic, too normal and too fucking weird for  _ them _ .

Castiel likes the movie enough to be curious as fuck by the end of it. He yawns, eyelids half closed as he hugs a pillow, and asks one question after the other, but Dean can't answer any without spoiling the story for him. Cas, an adult and apparently a BDSM expert,  _ pouts  _ when Dean refuses to give him spoilers, and fuck Dean if he doesn't look like a puppy. He looks so darn  _ cute  _ Dean wants to kiss him for the entirely wrong reasons and he pushes that thought to the very bottom off his mind.

Cas seems to make a miraculous recovery and become suddenly wide awake when he walks Dean to the door, pushing him up against a wall to give him one last possessive kiss for the ride home that leaves Dean feeling stupidly distracted and out of breath. He also tells Dean to wear the plug on Monday night so he'll be ready for a meeting on Tuesday. Dean can't fucking wait, even if his ass currently feels weird as fuck.

On Sunday he has to endure another long interrogation from his friends, who all want to know the identity of the person leaving marks on Dean's neck. Of course, they assume it's a woman. Dean doesn't correct them, yet he carefully dances around using female pronouns too.

Despite his ass still feeling odd all day if not slightly in pain, Dean feels alive and excited. He wishes he could get fucked by Castiel right away one more time but deep down he knows it's better is he allows his body to rest and recover before the next around. Patience has never been his strong suit but he takes it easy; that is what Sundays are for anyway, so he allows himself an entire day of procrastination and playing Mario Karts with Benny.

Later that night when he’s laying in bed, he wonders what Cas is up to, if he's studying or watching Harry Potter, if he's eaten. He grabs his phone, opens his conversation with Castiel for a moment, hesitating with his fingers hovering over the letters, then closes it again. He checks that his alarm is set for tomorrow and goes to sleep.

After his Monday's morning practise, Dean puts the plug on as ordered by Castiel. It burns a little coming in, just like it did in the beginning, but it doesn’t hurt and slowly, throughout the day, he adjusts to it well. 

The study session with Charlie goes very well. He leaves his phone on his pocket just in case Castiel changes his mind and texts him, but he never checks on it like before. He studies for hours, getting a lot of work done, pages and pages of content processed. He realises that even though he is eager to hear from Cas again and even with that thing on his ass, he is calm, finally in peace with himself.

He likes guys. Dean Winchester  _ really _ likes guys. He likes to be held down by a man and get fucked stupid into a mattress. It doesn’t matter if people around him doesn’t know, if he isn’t yet comfortable enough to announce it to the world; he knows it, he’s okay with it and it feels great. His whole life there was a silent noise in the back of his mind, a shadow that haunted him, and it is gone and that space in his mind if free and peaceful. He knows who he is and it feels good to be able to say it, even if it’s just to himself… And, well, Castiel.

When he comes out of class late that night, he has a text on his phone.

> _ See you tomorrow night, Dean. _

Dean takes a deep breath and smiles, a shiver running down his spine. He feels cheerful walking back home with the cold freeze on his face, the loud rock classics blasting on his headphones and the promise of awesome sex coming tomorrow. It’s the perfect ending to a good, productive day.

The next day, he barely has a moment to spare to daydream about Castiel and what they might do that night (not that Dean would ever admit he  _ daydreams  _ about him anyway…). The classes are long and require his attention, and then when he goes to the auto shop to work, his mind is set on the game and what needs to be done. He loves job, has always known this is what he wanted to do and is damn good at it. It puts his mind at ease and fills him with pride. However he is a little too eager to leave when the time calls and Bobby makes some kind of joke about him being finally free to go off to see his secret girlfriend. Dean just snorts and assures him he doesn’t have a  _ girlfriend _ .

As much as he hates himself for it, when he finally gets off work and checks his phone for instructions from Castiel, he feels disappointed to see his inbox is empty. No new messages. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he’s supposed to go to Cas’ and he just forgot, but is quite sure his dom never really said where they were going to meet. As he walks back to his car, Dean sends a message to him asking if they’re meeting at his apartment, but after waiting for 15 minutes without a reply he decides to just head home. 

Dean keeps busy but not enough to keep Castiel out of his mind. He makes himself a quick dinner around 6 pm, a simple grilled cheese sandwich, in case he needs to take off suddenly, then retreats back into his room where he pretends to be watching Dr Sexy while he is really just anxiously checking his phone from time to time. When Castiel’s text arrives half an hour later, he is embarrassed at how eagerly he jumps towards the phone.

> _ Just got out of work, I’ll be there in 20 minutes. _

The pieces of sandwich on his stomach suddenly feel like they weigh a ton and his breath hitches.

< _ You’re coming over? I rather go to your apartment. _

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, suddenly all too aware of the noise of one of his roommates coming out of his bedroom and someone laughing downstairs. The house is packed with guys, his friends, none of whom know he likes guys. Or, more importantly, that he is sleeping with the captain of their rival team. Getting  _ owned _ by him, to be precise.

Castiel’s reply comes almost right away in a series of consecutive texts.

> _ My brother’s staying over, so you can’t come.  _

_ > Besides, I said anytime, anywhere, remember?  _

_ > Don’t panic, straight boy, I’ll climb in through the window so your friends don’t see me. _

“ _ What? _ ”

Dean pushes the computer off his lap and runs to his window. He opens it and looks down, evaluating how the fuck Castiel thinks he’ll be able to climb up.

“There’s no fucking way,” he mutters under his breath, then runs back to the bed where his phone laid forgotten.

< _ You’re going to kill yourself. I can drive us to a motel. _

_ > Your concern flatters me, but I’m almost there. _

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean huffs, then hurries towards the window again.

He only needs to wait a couple of minutes until he sees Castiel, trench coat and all, sneaking around the house’s garden. He waves at Dean like he isn’t about to kick the bucket trying to get laid and Dean shakes his head furiously and waves his arms trying to stop him. Even in the dark, he can see Novak rolling his eyes at him.

Castiel cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders and suddenly sprints forwards. He jumps upwards, kicking the wall for leverage, holds onto something Dean can’t even see, then reaches for the window frame. Dean’s heart hammering fast as he expects to see Castiel fall and fucking die, his life flashing before his eyes as he wonders how the fuck he is going to explain what Novak was doing there in the first place, he jumps forwards to grab his hand and pulls him into the bedroom with wild force, both of them landing on the floor with loud thud.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Dean hisses at the same time Cas smiles and says, “hello, Dean.”

“You could have killed yourself!” Dean protests as Castiel gets up from the floor, smoothing his trench coat after putting his backpack down.

Cas shrugs distractedly as he looks around the room. “No, I’m really good at it. I used to sneak out a lot when I lived with my parents.”

“ _ Why?” _

“I grew up in a quite the small, conservative town. I couldn’t exactly tell my parents I was going out on dates with a man, so I came in and out my window to see him. Only broke my arm twice. Not the same one, though.”

Dean blinks several times, speechless, mouth hanging open.

“ _ Only  _ twice? Wow, Cas, you’re a real expert,” he says, tone not short of sarcasm that Castiel obvious doesn’t catch.

“I know, practise makes perfect.”

As Castiel curiously stares around the room, Dean observes him, his exasperation melting into wonder and disbelief. Castiel Novak, who had always seemed so plain and boring to him, become a continuous source of weirdness and unexpected things.  _ Where did you grow up?,  _ Dean wants to ask him.  _ Do your parents know now? Did that guy teach you about BDSM? Was he your boyfriend? Didn’t your parents find out about him when you broke your arm?  _ There is so much Dean wants to know, so many questions on the tip of his tongue, but he just stared at Cas, who is currently going through his small collections of books, the favourites Dean brought back all the way from home and old course packs that are useful enough to keep after finishing his courses. 

“What are you looking at?” Dean asks, just to have something to do with himself.

“I like your room. I didn’t have the chance to look around last time,” Castiel responds.

On the same bookshelf Cas is going through are a couple of photos of Dean’s family and his old football team from school. Castiel smiles at a way younger Dean fishing with his dad and brother, then rolls his eyes when he reaches the box containing neatly piled cassettes of rock music.

He looks around the room one final time, then turns to Dean and smirks. “You really are the poster child for white, straight frat boy, except you like to suck dick like you’re dying for it.”

Dean can’t help but snort. “I know, but  _ hey _ !”

While Castiel bursts out laughing and tries to be quiet at the same time, Dean grabs a pillow and throws is at his face. Cas catches it, his reflexes and movements as quick as ever, and throws it onto the floor. In the blink of an eye his expression changes from playful and at ease to determined and focused. A shiver runs down Dean’s spine as his dom advances towards him, breaking the space between them in just two big steps. Castiel takes him by the hips, leading him backwards until the back of Dean’s knees hit the bed and he falls, Castiel making quick work to straddle his lap and kiss him hungrily. 

Dean gasps, somewhat surprised, but catches up quickly, hands moving to wander underneath Castiel’s shirt. His top stops him though, grabbing his wrists and pinning them over his head. Cas goes straight for Dean’s neck, nipping and licking at it, probably leaving new marks, as he rocks their groins together. Dean smiles and bites his lip, closing his eyes and drinking in every feeling Castiel provokes in his body; his tongue on Dean’s skin, his weight on top of him, the pressure around the wrists, their erections growing together.

“Cas,” Dean sighs, a shiver running down his spine when Castiel licks a particularly sensitive spot.

Suddenly Castiel stops moving. A hand leaves its place around Dean’s wrist and comes down instead to lay over his neck. The pressure is firm and strong, cutting some of the air flow but not all of it. Dean’s eyes fly open, surprised and watchful, and yet he doesn’t feel threatened or afraid. Castiel has this intense look on his eyes, his cute playfulness all gone. His hand wraps around the neck a little tighter and Dean’s dick jumps to attention inside his jeans.

“When I fuck you, you call me sir, understood, boy?”

Dean wants to say something, to agree, but when he tries to breathe in through his nose, his nostrils feel strangely void and nothing comes through. He feels heat on his face from the lack of oxygen and a weird sensation on his ears, like sounds slowly seem to be getting more distant with every second that passes. 

And yet he doesn’t want Castiel to stop. They look into each other’s eyes, Cas biting his lip, frowning a little in concentration. He looks amazing, powerful and full of satisfaction and Dean just lays on the bed, not even considering fighting back.

Then, all of the sudden, the hand is gone and the air comes rushing in again. 

Castiel gets up from the bed, smiling proudly at Dean and orders, “take your clothes off.”

Dean takes his shirt off a little too eagerly, getting the collar stuck on his nose for a second, then throwing it over his shoulder and doing quick work of his jean buttons. As he pulls his pants down, Castiel moves to the head of the bed and grabs the cowboy hat hanging from the wall.

“I bet you made some girl wear this while they rode you, am I correct, pet?” he asks, amused.

Of course, Dean’s done that. It seems like a million years ago now though, when he used to think that was something kinky but it has no comparison anymore to his new standards, with all the sort of things Castiel makes him do. 

Dean nods while he kicks his jeans off, pulls his socks off too and in a quick movement takes off his underwear. He lays proudly naked on the bed, lifting himself up on his forearms as he watches Castiel. His dom puts the hat on and damn Dean right then and there for that image will forever be burned in his eyes. Cas lets his trench-coat fall to the floor, then his suit jacket, eyes roaming over Dean’s naked body shamelessly. Dean waits eagerly as Cas reaches for his belt. When the top signals with his hand for him to come forward, the once previously proud straight guy Dean used to be moves from the bed to get down on his knees on the floor, the hard wood uncomfortable but bearable. Castiel doesn’t even need to give him instructions, Dean sinks down on the pretty pink head as soon as he sees it, gathering the pre-cum on his tongue and licking along the underside before he wraps his lips around it and begins bobbing his head back and forwards. A growl rumbles deep in Castiel’s chest as he runs his hands through Dean’s hair, occasionally pulling at it. It stings ever so slightly, but it feels good at the same time. Everything Castiel does  _ always  _ feels good, it’s always planned and methodically done, and Dean wonders if his dom spends as much thinking about him as he does.

“Stop,” Castiel orders, voice deep and hoarse, just as Dean likes it.

When Dean pulls away, he stays close to the dick in front of him, looking up at his dom with pretend innocence in his eyes and tiniest of devilish smiles.

“Was I not pleasing you, sir?” he asks with mock disappointment.

Castiel huffs a laugh and strokes his cheek, taking the hat from his head with the other hand and placing it on top of Dean’s head. “You were amazing, but I really want to see you bouncing on my cock with that hat on, cowboy.”

“ _ Yes, sir _ ,” Dean mutters excitedly, watching Cas kick his shoes off and moving to lay down on the bed, still fully dressed except for the pants that are down to his knees now.

Dean takes his plug out and tosses it aside quickly, jumping into bed to straddle Castiel’s lap. He’s eager for it, has been ever since leaving his dom’s apartment on the weekend and isn’t even trying to hide it. He takes Castiel’s cock in his hand, pumping it a few times before he aligns himself with it. With the tip of the head pressing against his ass, Dean starts to sink in on it, holding his breath and feeling every inch spreading him open. It’s still a tight fit and a feeling he’s got to get used to, but this time at least he knows what to expect.

Castiel waits patiently for Dean settle on his cock, massaging his submissive’s thighs as he bites his lip, frowning in concentration, probably fighting back the urge to just fuck into Dean and get his way. Dean seeks him out, hands holding onto Castiel’s wrists for support if not for a little more touch, which he can’t deny he craves. He wants to feel more, explore more.

He wants Cas to move, but this time it’s his job. With the cowboy hat on his head, he starts to move like women used to move above him not too long ago. He rolls his hips slowly, back and forwards, feeling Castiel inside him with every tiny movement.

“Fuck,” he sighs, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost at the intensity of the feeling, all the access the position allows Castiel to have. “Fuck, this is- this is good.”

Castiel’s nails dig into Dean’s thighs as he begins to move too, hips rolling upwards in the same rhythm as Dean’s. He seems perfectly in control of every movement, every breath, whereas Dean finds himself starting to lose patience, picking up the pace and panting and shivering.

When he opens his eyes, he swears he could come just by the way Cas is looking at him with that strangely intense look on his face, almost feral and unrecognisable.

“You’d better keep quiet so your friends don't hear you, boy,” he teases Dean in a quiet whisper, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Fuck my friends,” Dean mutters to himself as he fucks himself faster and harder of Castiel’s cock.

It feels amazing, the pulses of pleasure that go all the way from the tip of his toes to his ears, the shivers that run down his spine and stomach, and every time Cas hits his prostate Dean has to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep quiet.

And yet he wants  _ more. _ His hands unwrap from Castiel’s wrists to fumble with the buttons of his dom’s shirt, which he can’t remember why is even still on. He almost rips them off to get them out of the way, then once the shirt is open he forcefully pulls Cas’ t-shirt up, hands roaming the exposed, perfect chest and stomach laid in front of him. Castiel is a sight for sore eyes, a natural Adonis and Dean’s downfall. He watches the muscles flexing with every movement his dom does,  _ feels _ them under his hands, and he finds himself perplexed by how much the sight turns him on and unable to understand how he was oblivious to how sexy that was for so many years.

Then there’s a knock on his door and Dean’s stomach  _ sinks _ for a moment, all the way down to the center of the Earth, even though a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his mind reminds him he locked the door earlier, thank  _ God _ .

“ _ What _ ?” he barks a little too aggressively and out of breath.

There’s a moment of silence, then he hears Benny laugh through the door and ask, “dude, are you jacking off? I was going to suggest dinner but if you’re busy-”

At that moment Castiel decides to resume their activities, rolling his hips faster, harder, punishing Dean for the distraction while at the same time bringing them both closer than ever to the finish line.

“I’m busy!” Dean replies with the steadiest voice he is able to manage while containing his moans. He glares down at Castiel, who smiles all amused with himself.

Dean doesn’t have time to retaliate though because he feels it from within, his orgasm building until everything else fades. In that moment all that matters is the touch of Castiel and the way he pushes Dean off the edge like a pro, like he was born for it, to give pleasure and to take it. Dean falls forwards on his hands, cowboy hat falling to a side. He buries his face on the pillow, right next to Castiel’s head, hearing his dom’s ragged breath on his ear as he cums on top of him between their stomachs. Cas continues drilling into him, hips snapping hard against Dean’s ass. Dean digs his nails into the pillows, overwhelmed by his longest orgasm until date. Then finally Castiel inhales sharply and holds Dean close and still, his rhythm stuttering as hot cum fills his sub’s insides. He exhales and groans low on his throat. Dean turns his head to the side just in time to take a peek and enjoyed the blissed out expression of the man underneath him. He smiles to himself, glad to have pleased his master, then slowly starts to pull out.

They both clean up in comfortable silence. Castiel’s movements are slower and he seems tired by the activities, if not slightly sleepy already. Dean watches him while he puts on his pyjama pants, wondering if he’s going to fall asleep before Dean’s roommates even go to bed.

Castiel inhales deeply, sighs and then gets up from the bed, picking up his backpack on the way to the window. “Well, this was fun-”

Dean runs to stand in front of the window, suddenly alarmed. “No, no, no. You’re not going out the window, are you  _ insane _ ? Look at you, you’re exhausted”

Cas rolls his half opened eyes at him. “Unless you want to come out to your friends, I don’t see another choice.”

“They’ll be going to bed soon, then you can sneak out through the back door. You can, hmm- we can hang out until then,” Dean offers, not without feeling slightly awkward, like he’s imposing himself and forcing Castiel to have to turn him down gently when he’s obviously confused their roles.

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you, Dean, it’s late-”

“If you break your neck and die outside my window, that will be much harder to explain. Come on, we can watch Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.”

Castiel’s face lights up like that of a boy, attentive as a child about to get a present. “What’s the secret? I like secrets.”

Dean smirks. “I’m sure you do. Now, come, sit down.”

When they get back in the bed and lay down next to each other, he realises just how small his mattress is, not really made for hanging out with a bro. Not that Castiel qualifies as a bro… But they’re way too close for comfort in Dean’s opinion, almost snuggling next to each other in an attempt not to fall off the edges. He looks sideways at Castiel, who seems oblivious to any sort of issue or concern. It’s just him, Dean realises, always overthinking things, always making everything complicated…

And yet as the movie starts and Castiel smiles to himself, his comfortable heat warming up Dean’s side, their feet occasionally touching when they move, it all seems so simple, so familiar, like they’ve been friends for a long time already.

When the movie finishes, they stay up for a little longer talking in whispers about the movie, their careers and the matches they’re going to play soon. It’s nice, enjoyable, and if Dean is slightly curious of what it’d feel like to go to sleep with Castiel and wake up with a man by his side, he keeps it to himself when he watches the other go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously so sorry for the delay! Dating two people (and one with depression) AND working takes a fucking lot of time x.x  
> BUT I AM BACKKK  
> Your comments kept me alive, seriously. Someone asked me for an update like two day ago and I was like MY BABIES NEED ME, GODDAMN IT. So, here, AN UPDATE!

Lines start to get blurry between them, if they hadn't already, on Friday night when Dean goes to see Castiel play football. He’s done that before, to study the team’s moves and tactics and use them against them in future matches, but this is the first time he is going to be sitting with the locals and not Castiel’s rivals. Benny walks towards the rivals’ stands out of instinct and Dean has to grab him by the arm and redirect him to join the people who are going to be cheering _for_ Cas and not _against_ him. He looks slightly ashamed of himself for completely forgetting about the fact that they are supposed to _like_ Castiel now and not wish he accidentally breaks a leg at some point. Everyone in the gang prefers Novak’s team wins anyway; their opponents are a bunch of cheaters anyway, almost caused Dean a serious injury once. Knowing what they are capable of, Dean’s on the edge of his seat all night, watching Cas run with all his energy and determination from one side of the field to the other, being constantly chased and beaten down by opponents. Everyone knows Castiel is a damn good player and the captain of the team, so that makes him more of a target. It shouldn’t matter that much to Dean, his life would be a lot easier too if Cas got injured and got benched for a while, but he doesn’t even have to look deep down into his soul to know that isn’t what he wants anymore. He wishes him well, he does, and so does Dean’s little gang, which oddly satisfies him as he watches them cheer for his secret dom. Castiel would be a fine addition to his group of friends and he shouldn’t be thinking like that. That’s not what’s happening between them and perhaps soon enough, when the bet is over, they won’t even see each other at all anymore.

Except it sort of seems like he _is_ becoming friends with them when Castiel waves at them with a bright, happy smile during a water break. He seems as glad to see them there cheering for him as he does when he spots his own friends sitting not too far away from Dean’s group. Dean can see his sparkly blue eyes all the way from the stands. He’s sweaty and covered in mud, yet he still looks simply amazing.

 _Thank God for that stupid bet_ , he finds himself thinking.

After the match, which Castiel’s team wins though not by much, Dean says goodbye to his friends and hurries to meet his dom at his apartment. With Cas’ brother finally gone, the apartment becomes their meeting point again. Dean is not sure _how the fuck_ Castiel still has so much energy left in him after watching him run like his life depended on it, but as soon as they’re together inside those four walls, Cas practically jumps him, pulling at his clothes, almost ripping them open in a hurry to get Dean naked. Dean complies, letting himself be manhandled, pushed against walls and then down into bed, biten and kissed all over. Cas barely preps him, pushing two fingers into him roughly before he coats himself with lube and penetrates Dean. He grabs Dean by the hips, pulling him close to the edge of the bed, then hooks his elbows underneath Dean’s knees to pull them up and spread his legs open. It gives him so much access, he buries himself completely inside Dean effortlessly with one quick, sharp roll of his hips.

Dean means to gasp but instead a loud moan comes out, then another and then many more. Castiel looks possessed, staring down at Dean in a way that makes him feel _owned_ and small, frowning in concentration, panting in rhythm with each thrust. Dean feels the sharp bones of Castiel’s hips digging into his ass and even though it’s slightly painful, he doesn’t want anything to stop. It’s fast, almost aggressive, but hot as hell as he just lays there taking it, loving the feeling of being used and desired. His dom doesn’t even need to use words this time, Dean just knows the things he is thinking while he smiles, pleased with every filthy sound that comes out of Dean.

Cas comes first, pulling out just before cumming to mark Dean with his cum. Dean loves to watch him touching himself, loves to see the movement of his hand, the muscles and veins in his arm. Cas grabs Dean’s cock and pumps him fast as he comes over Dean’s stomach, making a mess on purpose, but his sub doesn’t mind, he finds everything Castiel does or say erotic, and it doesn’t take much more before he reaches his on climax, toes curling and his eyes rolling back to his skull.

It’s afterwards that things get… _weird_. After they clean themselves up, when Dean is about to make his way into the the hallway to get his clothes and go home, Castiel pulls him into bed again.

“It’s late,” he says in between a yawn, “you don’t have to go, you can stay.”

For a whole minute, while Dean lets himself be led into bed and covered by the sheets, he is completely taken aback by the offer and speechless with embarrassment. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He wants to leave, he feels like he really should leave, but he also doesn't _really_ want to.

“You just want to fuck me in the morning,” Dean jokes because he’s nervous with indecision and he needs a second.

Castiel chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Cas, I don’t want to- to overstay my welcome,” Dean stammers stupidly even though he’s already pretty much getting ready to close his eyes and count sheeps. Castiel’s mattress is great and the sheets are soft, the weight of the bedspread on top of them comforting and inviting. It’s late and he’s tired, warm and cozy. It would be so easy to just give into his rebellious heart’s desires...

“You’re not, I literally just told you you can stay,” Castiel whispers in the dark. He shuffles in bed, Dean can feel their legs touching underneath the sheets and for some ridiculous reason it feels more intimate than what they did just minutes ago.

“I can drive.”

Castiel sighs, rolls into his side and wiggles one of his leg between Dean’s. “Don’t be dense, Dean. I just want to make sure you don’t have a drop, okay? You’ll be doing me a favour.”

Dean nods, then realises Castiel can’t see him, not in the dark.

“Yeah, okay,” he whispers. “If you insist.”

Castiel hums in agreement, already sounding like he’s halfway to dreamland.

The actually weirdest part of it all is that it doesn’t feel weird at all, Dean thinks as he hears Cas’ breathing become even and soft. It feels good, it feels right, comfortable, pleasant. He can’t fall asleep right away, not like Castiel does in the comfort of his home. He needs time to adjust, to quiet his mind and beg himself not to make this weird; if Cas is okay with it, so should he. When his eyes adjust to the dark, he turns his head to the side and watches his partner in crime for a moment. He looks peaceful and, if Dean allows himself a moment of weakness, also beautiful as fuck.

In the morning when he wakes up, Cas is pressed up against his back, hugging him close, their legs tangled up. Castiel has a hand on his stomach, it feels nice, like it stables the sea of emotions that threatens to stir inside him, and Dean smiles to himself in a moment of confused and sleepy weakness. Then he notices Castiel’s semi-hard boner pressing against his ass and he takes that chance as a way to distract himself from any other thought his treacherous mind shouldn’t be having. Dean moves his ass against the cock that’s poking him, slowly arousing Castiel into full erection and meanwhile himself too. It makes him feel slutty and needy but he can’t begin to be sorry about it, he thrives in the feeling. Dean can hear Castiel’s breathing changing and his arms tighten around Dean’s torso. Soon enough Cas is fully awake, kissing the back of Dean’s neck and rather gently rolling him onto his stomach, then he fucks him from behind without saying a word, biting Dean hard on his shoulder for good measure because something always needs to be rough with Cas.

Afterwards they shower and have breakfast; Cas makes coffee and Dean makes blueberry pancakes like his mom taught him when he was a child. Castiel watches him cook over his shoulder, smiling from ear to ear and asking over and over again how much longer they’re going to take, eager to eat. Dean tells him to stop being impatient and go wait on his seat but he is glad Cas doesn’t listen to him and lingers close to him. It’s by far the nicest, most domestic morning Dean’s had in forever with a sexual partner and he can’t stop thinking about it when he goes home. There’s just something about their friendship that… _works,_ it’s easy unlike it’s ever been with anyone else.

There’s an itch he can’t scratch for the rest of the weekend, a longing he doesn’t want to face. He wants to see Castiel. He wonders what he’s up to, why he’s always busy on Sundays. _Who the fuck is busy every goddamn Sunday?,_ he asks himself. He wonders so many things about Cas, there’s still a lot they don’t know about each other, so much he wants to ask.

On Sunday morning he can’t resist the urge anymore and he texts Castiel. It’s a lame, short text but he can’t help himself.

> _What’s up, Cas? Don’t forget to eat something today._

“God,” Dean groans, a hand running down his face. “What the _fuck_ was that, Dean? Jesus.”

Castiel’s reply doesn’t come for _hours_ and Dean tries not to take it personal. He fears to have crossed some sort of line, perhaps he was right all along and he wasn’t supposed to bother Cas in his free time. He gets angry with himself for being so pathetic, then at Castiel because if he gets upset over it then he’s an asshole.

The moment his friend texts him back, the ugly ball of insecurities that had been nesting on his chest dissolves almost immediately.

< _Sorry, I was at church. I bought breakfast on the way, thank you for asking._

Dean frowns at his phone.

> _Why were you at church?_

_ < Because I’m Catholic. _

Dean snorts. He cannot, just _cannot_ imagine BDSM expert Castiel Novak praying at a church with a nice suit on a Sunday morning.

> _You sinner go to Sunday mass?_

_ < Precisely why I go. _

Slowly his smile drops a little while he stares at the words. The relief he’d been feeling is poison by some newfound sadness and a feeling of pity. He remembers the night Cas came in through the window again, how he told Dean he broke his arms _twice_ for sneaking out of his house so his parents wouldn’t find out who he was doing, what he really was. Then fear settles low in his gut. What would Dean’s father think if he found out about them? Would he be upset or disappointed? If he ended up with a man - not that he thought about that sort of stuff _for real_ -, would his parents be displeased that he wouldn’t give them a grandchild like they’ve always said they wanted?

Before he knows it, he’s texting Cas again. He means what he says and the words are not only directed to Cas, they’re for himself as well.

_> There’s nothing wrong with us. _

Castiel takes longer to reply. Dean waits patiently sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at his phone, his heart beating fast on his chest. Cas made him this way after all, he dug up Dean’s darkest, deepest secret and rubbed it on his face, and now he dares tell Dean it’s a _sin_? No, fuck that. He’s enjoying it too much to see anything wrong with it.

_< I didn’t mean to offend you. My apologies, Dean. I meant my violent sexual preferences, not your sexual orientation. You’re perfect the way you are. _

“ _Oh_.”

Dean rereads the phrase a dozen times, half expecting the words to change or fade away, but no, they are there, right in front of him, immutable and everlasting.

_You’re perfect the way you are._

_Well,_ he thinks as he blushes in the privacy of his room, _that’s new._ He’s been called a lot of things, not all bad, a guy like him gets many compliments but _perfect_ ? Dean’s first instinct is to say something bad, to turn down the compliment because it’s just too much, he can’t connect to it, can’t believe it, but then there’s a knock on his door and Benny’s coming in without even waiting for a reply, and Dean hides away his phone containing evidence of his _something_ with Cas. He spends the rest of the day playing video games with his best friend, trying to come to terms with Castiel’s compliment or just forget about it… he fails but it's okay because it leaves a pleasantly warm feeling in his chest.

Monday comes around with a nice surprise. When he gets to the library in the afternoon, he stops dead on his tracks when he sees Charlie sitting at their usual table with no other than Cas. The crazy thought of having sex behind a bookshelf in some distant corner of the library crosses his mind but then he remembers he is a closeted bisexual and getting caught on the library would be so damn easy with the way Castiel brings out the filthiest noises out of him. He can’t say no to him though, those are the terms of the bet, and he isn’t even sure he would have the _will_ to deny Cas anything he asked of Dean anymore.

And yet when he gets to the table and sits down with his small gang Castiel makes no effort to seduce him, he doesn’t so much as flirt with him or try to signal Dean to leave with him. They sit down, the three of them together, to actually study like a normal group of people after Charlie explains she invited Cas to study when they ran into each other in a coffee shop. Anyone could confuse them as friends and they wouldn’t be wrong anymore to think so, except their knees bump together a couple of times under the table and Castiel lingers in the touch if only for just a second, or maybe Dean is just imagining it, maybe he just _wishes_ Cas were longing to touch him as much as he does. It’s like there’s a pull of gravity towards his dom that makes Dean want to reach out and touch him, feel his skin under Dean’s fingers. But it’s also nice to just have him there, being part of Dean’s… _real_ life. He’s not just a fantasy anymore, a mystery out of reach and available only at night; he is a real person that Dean gets to spend time with, someone he is getting to know more and more with each day.

“What House do you think Castiel would be in?” Charlie asks towards the end of their session. Soon both should leave for their respective classes and by now Charlie always starts to get distracted.

Dean looks up from his book, half mad at her for pulling him down with her but also relieved to have something else to think about for a hot minute other than advanced mechanics. “Hogwart House?”

Charlie looks at him like he’s stupid. “Of course, what else could I possibly mean?”

“Slytherin,” Dean says right away, not expecting at all the reaction from Castiel, whose face falls as he looks rather offended.

“Why?” he complains rather sadly.

Dean can’t help but snort and smile a little. “I’m sorry, Cas, did that offend you?”

“Well, yes, aren’t they the bad guys?” he asks, looking at Dean like a kicked puppy, blue eyes big and pensive.

“Not _really_ ,” Charlie explains. “I mean, it the books and the movies they seem like that, but it’s not what the House _per se_ is about.”

“Relax, Cas, I just meant it because you’re so focused in your studies and everything you do, you seem really ambitious and determined,” Dean explains, hoping to calm Castiel, but his frown doesn’t ease.

“You think that’s what defines me?” he asks, putting his book down. “I am those things but… I guess I would rather be a… Hufflepuff.”

Dean and Charlie snort.

“Honey, _nobody_ wants to be a Hufflepuff,” Charlie smirks.

“Aren’t they hardworking, loyal and fair?”

“Yes, but they’re the lame House, Cas, everyone knows that.”

Cas shrugs and smiles. “I’ve never been considered particularly cool, so I guess it fits me.”

Dean starts to giggle. “Did you just burn yourself?”

Castiel shrugs and smiles, sweet and almost innocent, and it’s suddenly crystal clear to Dean that Castiel could indeed never be a Slytherin. Maybe Hufflepuffs aren’t that bad as Dean usually thinks, not if they are so damn likeable and cute.

The following day, Dean smiles all the way to Castiel’s and absolutely ignores a tiny nagging voice at the very back of his mind that wants to panic over the happiness he is feeling. He does _not_ want to think about it or the suspicion that his good mood is potentially related to Castiel and what that might mean. He’s just happy, unquestionably happy, or at least he wants to be… Except for the small, slightly heavy weight of anxiety that starts building up in his chest as he tries to ignore an entire part of his brain that desperately tries to tell him something.

 _This isn’t a good idea, stop it, Dean,_ a rebellious and persistent voice whispers in his mind as Dean pays for vegetables in the shop just under Castiel’s apartment.

He doesn’t want to stop what he is doing with Novak, though, not to think, not to analyse the situation, not to question what the hell he is doing while he prepares dinner (homemade hamburgers, the best in Dean’s repertoire) for Cas because that certainly wasn’t part of the bet, that’s just something nice he wants to do for his dom, who is late after missing his bus home. Dean is glad to be there, in an apartment that he is now familiar with, where he walks around without his shoes on like he owns the place, knowing exactly where everything is in the kitchen… not that it is well equipped, though.

When he hears the door opening, Dean feels his stomach do a flip of excitement.

“God, it smells wonderful!” Castiel sighs happily as he kicks his shoes off and hurries to the kitchen. Dean smiles to himself, pleased, then freezes for a moment and blushes when Castiel puts his arms around him from behind and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “Evening, handsome.”

Trying to keep a straight face and a cool demeanour, Dean replies a more dry, “heya, Cas.”

Castiel lingers around the kitchen, complaining about his job and stressing over how much he needs to study. He gravitates around Dean in a way that pleases his sub, not that he would ever admit to that, and Dean can’t help but touch him when they walk past each other. Something simple, no big gesture, just a touch to Castiel’s elbow or hip that lasts nothing but a second and still leaves the skin on Dean’s hand tingling.

 _This isn’t a good idea, stop it, Dean,_ the voice repeats. With Castiel’s smile plastered in his eyes, Dean ignores the voice again. At the same time, the anxiety in his chest grows a little, expanding through his tissues, tainting an otherwise perfectly enjoyable night.

He can’t ignore the voice forever, Dean knows that, but then Castiel pushes him against the counter, pinches one of his nipples rather harshly and watches Dean squirm in pain and pleasure. Cas looks drunk with power and excitement, biting his lower lip in triumph, so gorgeous, so addictive, and once again Dean forgets and gives in, if only for another night, another pounding that will leave his ass sore for a couple of days...

Then it happens again on Thursday night, but who the hell is keeping count by now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, comments are much appreciated.  
> Dean, your crush is showing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously so damn SORRY for my delay. My dom is moving away at the end of this month, breaking both our heartssss, so I've been spending a lot of time with him and damn it takes time to see more than one person at the same time. I'll try not to suck so fucking much and I've also started writing on my breaks at work so HOPEFULLY I won't take FOREVER for the next episode, you guys. If there's like one of you left reading this, I deserve it haha this is for you, one reader left.

Whenever they meet, Dean learns something new about Castiel and he practically memorizes it all, every detail he can get about this very strange and appealing person. Castiel comes from a numerous family of deeply religious people. He believes in God and asks for forgiveness for his sinful ways, yet he has faith God is merciful and will forgive him if he asks for it. In his entire family, only Gabriel knows he enjoys the company of men. From the rest, he keeps it a secret, much like Dean does. He says he will tell them one day, perhaps, if he ends up with a man. Until then, it's better not to risk giving their father a heart attack.

He likes to cuddle Dean at night in his sleep and give him light pecks on the lips, but never remembers doing it the following morning. He does it out of instinct, a wild act of his unconscious mind that puts in evidence Castiel's true sweet nature. He rarely ever laughs hard or loud; it’s not because he doesn’t find things funny (although a lot of sarcastic or ironic jokes to elude him), he’s just quiet and gentle like that. He tells Dean that sometimes people are put off by his personality, that they misunderstand his serenity and quietude and mistake it for uninterest or arrogance. This has always caused him trouble making friends or dating people. He prefers to listen to people talk rather than speak himself but when he talks about things he likes, he could go on forever, like when he spent almost half an hour telling Dean about bees. Apparently, they don’t have lungs and this amazes Cas.

When he was 5 he was absolutely certain werewolves were real -so did Gabriel told him, just to mess with him- and used to be deadly terrified of full moons. He can’t remember much of his parents from his childhood, being both of them so busy all the time, and used to look up to his brothers as father figures, which melts something in Dean’s heart. He likes fireworks, hates musicals and has tried to keep plants in the apartment but inevitably killed them all after a week. Castiel lacks basic life skills but is about to become a  _ damn good _ lawyer.

Dean has exactly three more weeks of Castiel before the bet comes to its end Dean realises as the clock in Castiel's nightstand strikes midnight, announcing the start of Fridays. Three weeks, that's it, so he tries to learn as much as possible about his dom while he can.

_ And then what? _ , he wonders.  _ Do we never see each other again? Are we friends now? Would he want to keep me as his sub? Do  _ I _ want that? _

Dean has three weeks to, just in case, memorize the peaceful look on Castiel's face as he sleeps. He fell asleep right away after sex, holding Dean's hands on his own while he was rubbing Dean's wrists better after untying him. The ropes, tied hard to immobilize Dean while his dom had his way for however long he wanted, had left red marks on his skin and even though Castiel didn't regret it at all and he wasn't sorry either, he always took the time to make sure Dean was okay afterwards.

Trying hard to think of anything but how lovely Castiel looks when he is peaceful, Dean deflects his thoughts to kinkier ones, hoping he gets some bruise or mark from the ropes. He pulled hard from them, tried to break free to test them at first and then because it was simply exhilarating to be unable to break free. He couldn't move, immobilized with his hands tied to the bedframe and his dom's weight on top of him. He'd felt trapped, practically weak, but he thrived in the feeling of being completely at Castiel's mercy. Cas made it so enjoyable too, teasing Dean with pain, biting him hard on a thigh or pinching his nipples until he gasped in pain, only to reward him later with beautiful, just as equally overwhelming feelings of pleasure. The moment Castiel's lips closed around the head of his cock, Dean had to look away and think of something else, or he would have finished embarrassingly fast. He hadn't been expecting it at all, thought Cas would never do that to a sub. Boy, had he been wrong. Castiel was either extremely talented or he had done  _ that _ before.

Either way Dean decides to stop thinking about it before he has to go to sleep with an awkward boner. He looks at Castiel one more time, practically sighs and closes his eyes.

In the morning they wake up earlier than Dean would if he were sleeping alone. He is sleeping, would love to be able to sleep an hour more, but doesn’t regret at all staying up late to mess around with Cas. 

They shower together, taking turns under the water. Cas likes to take his time, Dean enjoys watching the water run down his body, everybody wins. There are so many things he's tempted to say while he watches Cas smile with his eyes closed under the hot water, confessions that hang from the tip of his tongue, but Dean can't even admit to himself to be thinking them, let alone share them with another living soul.

"Are we doing something tonight?" Dean asks out of impulse, just to hear something other than his thoughts. Cas opens his eyes and Dean starts stuttering under the weight of his gaze. "I- I was thinking of movie night with Benny, but, err- you know, I have to come when you call, so-"

“I think your ass could use a break for this week,” Castiel deadpans, then breaks into a wide smile and giggles.

Dean elbows him on the ribs, trying to look offended or proud or anything else but dazzled by that smile.

When Cas settles, we says, “it's fine,  _ pet _ , have fun with Benny, I have plans tonight."

Dean doesn't expect the disappointment he feels crawling up his gut.

"Oh," is all he replies while trying to keep a straight face and think of something else to say.

Castiel doesn't seem to notice anything, thankfully. "Meg asked me to accompany her to a party, at Cabaret Mado, do you know that place? I’d invite you, but I doubt you’d want to go."

Dean huffs. "Cas, don't you know me at all? I love parties."

"It's a kink party, straight boy," he sort of smirks, lifting an eyebrow. 

“A kink party?” Dean repeats dumbly. He feels worse with everything word Cas says, a heavy balls pulling his guts down to the floor along with his cheery morning mood. “You mean like one of those things were people get together to fuck in orgies or something?”

The thought of Castiel going out with the sole purpose of getting laid with anyone else makes Dean undeniably and bitterly jealous. He pictures his dom in a dark room with red dim lights, surrounded by men and women alike, all in various stages of undress and all trying to fuck Novak because who in their right mind  _ wouldn't  _ want to? A minute ago Dean was happy and hungry, now he feels full -  _ of envy, of worry? _ \- with a nasty sensation he can't describe as he imagines Cas getting in line for a gang bang.

It shouldn't matter to him, if Cas sleeps with other people, if Dean is not enough to satiate his needs, if those pretty pink lips will be moaning someone's name in about 12 hours. Dean doesn't have a right to be jealous and possessiveness has never been his thing, he's never felt this way before. He shouldn't care...but he does, he does more than he'd like to admit, more than advisable for his own good.

"Well, they are all different,” Cas explains, “but yes, you could get invited to an orgy or a gang bang, or simply to watch other people. There is a pre-party, we hang out for a while like you would at any bar, then whoever is on the mood goes down to the dungeons."

_ The dungeons? _ , Dean thinks to himself, wondering what the hell that could possible mean.

The absolute normalcy and matter-of-fact tone with which Cas speaks makes it obvious to Dean that he's been to these sorts of gatherings at least more than once. Just when Dean thought he had finally discovered the depths of Castiel's kinky habits, his dom finds a way to prove him wrong. This time though, it’s not for Dean’s benefit and pleasure.

"And as I said," he continues, turning away to turn the water off. Dean feels suddenly too cold. "I'd invite you, but I doubt you'd want to go. We all keep each other's identities a secret, but I still doubt you'd want another soul to find out what you truly are; a needy, very much bisexual sub."

Cas smirks defiantly, elbows Dean lightly on the ribs and then chuckles. Unable to return Castiel's playfulness as a dozen different thoughts cross his mind, Dean turns away and hides his face on a towel.

_ Don't make this weird _ , Dean tells himself while he tries to tame his mind, his feelings.  _ We're not exclusive, he can fuck whoever he wants. I don't care, I don't care, I do  _ not _ care. _

Cas dresses up, suit and tie and trench coat, ready for work and ready for a sex party in a dungeon that doesn't include Dean. He looks radiant all throughout their breakfast, the corners of his lips turned upwards in a small but still excited smile the entire time. Dean hates himself for being so bitter to see Cas so happy. Before parting ways, the law student pushes him against the door and gives him such an intense kiss, Dean almost forgets those lips will be kissing someone else that night.  _ Almost _ , but not quite.

When leaves, during the entire ride to football training, Dean struggles with himself, arguing his own mind, trying to come up with a decision or just one coherent thought. A part of his brain is screaming,  _ begging _ him to already unpack his feeling for Cas, to think about the things he’s been pushing towards the back on his mind, while another deflects the subject entirely, looking for optional solutions that will allow him not to have the conversation he doesn't want to have with himself and still manage to feel better somehow.

_ What if I show up to that stupid party? That would show Cas _ , he thinks. Another part of his brain adds in a whisper,  _ and then we can go home together and he won't sleep with anyone else _ .

Nobody needs to know he is a submissive or bisexual. He doesn't plan on trying to sleep with anyone anyway, he just needs to keep his hands off of Castiel for a night and he has practise pretending he isn't into him in public so it could work. The tricky part would be to stop Cas from getting handsy in a primarily sexual environment.

And then comes the guilt again with that thought. He will crash Castiel's party without invitation and then expect him to have no fun at all because Dean is too chicken to let people know he is into dick. And all out of jealousy. All because he doesn't want to share, he doesn't want to imagine Cas finds someone to replace him with. 

_ But he will replace you _ , he thinks.  _ In three weeks, it'll be over and he will move on to his next conquest. So make the best out of it, idiot, while you can. Satiate your needs. _

Decision made, Dean nods to himself and smiles, the curve of his lips tight in the edges. It’s just a precarious solution to only one small bit of rather bigger problem. He can’t cock-block Cas forever, might not even be successful tonight, but he’s stubborn enough to think that if he succeeds, then things will be okay and for one more day that is enough.

He’s nervous the rest of the day, but for an entirely different reason.

_ I’m going to a fucking BDSM gathering _ , he realises after finding the event online and reading through the description and watching old photos of past events. Dean Winchester is not a prude by all means and is fairly experienced in bed, but a friggin  _ BDSM party _ ? That’s new and quite intimidating. He’s not going to be the most knowledgeable person there nor the most confident, he’s going to be new and lost without Cas there with him from the beginning to guide him. He doesn’t know anyone, he doesn’t want to  _ meet _ anyone either, he doesn’t want to be looked at or hit on, but he has to go, Winchesters don’t back out of anything, especially if the main reason not to do something is fear of the unknown. He will go, he will find Cas and seduce him out of there. Maybe they can even fuck in a bathroom first, Dean wouldn’t oppose to that at all.

After work and a quick shower, Dean gathers all his courage for a moment as he sits inside the comfort of his car, looking towards the building in the corner of the street where a tall guy in a suit who is obviously security stands outside, intimidating people who quickly walk past him. Dean doesn’t even need to check the address, he just  _ knows  _ that is the right place.

“Get in, get Cas, get out,” he says to himself. “Easy peasy…”

His grip around the steering wheel tightens for a moment, he fidgets on his seat, feeling glued to it. Dean looks up to himself in the rearview mirror and sights.

“This is stupid, isn’t it? I’m about to do something stupid, aren’t I?”

Green eyes stare back at him, alert and nervous. Feeling like a jackass, Dean shakes his head and frowns at himself.

"Come on, you're being dramatic. How bad can it be?"

And with that last brave thought, Dean gets out of the car and marches towards the club. The guard sees him coming and stares at him up and down. At least half a head taller than Dean, with dark skin, a fancy suit and a don't-fuck-with-me attitude about him, the guy looks anything but welcoming. Whatever smartass comment Dean had been planning to say dies on the tip of his tongue and he just stares up at the guy with the fragile confidence of a high schooler trying to act their way into a bar where alcohol is served.

The guard doesn't move an inch and for the longest ten seconds of Dean's life they just stare at each other in silence in a battle of wills, the wind blowing between them and music coming from beyond the door, until Dean finds his voice.

"Is this-"

"Are you sure you're in the right place, boy?" he cuts Dean through, voice deep and tone unfriendly. 

Dean tries not to react badly, he'll get himself kicked out before even managing to get in.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Your clothes don't follow the dress code."

Jeans, flannel shirt, leather jacket. Dean looks down at himself confused.  _ What's wrong with my clothes? I look just fine. _

"I didn't know there was a dress code," he admits. 

"Do you have an invitation?"

_ Fuck _ .

"No?"

The guard frowns at him, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"My- my- friend, Castiel, he invited me," Dean lies quickly. "He forgot to mention the dress code."

"Castiel, huh?" he repeats, then a moment after he gives Dean the smallest of knowing smirks. Dean stares back at him almost suspiciously.

_ Seriously, how often does Cas come to these things? _

"Wait here."

Without even waiting for a reply, the tall man turns and walks through the heavy wooden doors. Dean stands on the tip of his toes and tries to sneak a peek inside but the doors close as soon as they open. He stays outside obediently, wondering if the security guard will ever return or if Castiel's name is truly enough to get an automatic pass into one of these things despite breaking the dress code and who knows what other rules.

After what seems longer than necessary, the man finally returns with a tiny red haired woman behind him. She has bouncy curly hair and a dashing black dress, with a pin over her right breast that says DM. She looks Dean up and down, smiling more invitingly than the guard, like he's a piece of meat.

“You're with Castiel, correct?” she asks with an edge of amusement and a very Scottish accent.

Dean nods despite realizing there's clearly a tacit meaning to her words that reveal the very thing he doesn't want people to know. He needs to set his pride aside and get in.

“I'm Rowena, the Dungeon Monitor. This is your first time in a kink party, isn't it, my dear?”

Pursing his lips into a thin line, Dean nods again. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, you turned up in  _ jeans _ , my dear,” she replies, giving his outfit a second glance -of disapproval-. “But a friend of Castiel is a friend of ours! So come on in, darling, I'll take you to sign the waiver and nondisclosure agreement before you join the party.”

Dean blinks a couple of times as Rowena turns around and disappears through the heavy doors, wondering again what the hell he is getting himself into.  _ I’ve got this far _ , he figures, so he follows her inside. He comes into a dark, long corridor with a red carpet and dim lights. Music comes from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Curious to join in the party already, he almost walks into Rowena when she stops in front of another door to their right and pushes it open.

“Come on in, eager beaver,” she teases him. 

The office is small and strangely normal. Dean feels slightly stupid having thought it would be plagued with sex toys or weird stuff. He sits in a chair in front of the party monitor’s desk as she walks around it to sit in front of him, moving some papers around until she finds what she wants.

“ID, please,” Rowena asks Dean as she pushes some papers and a pen towards him.

Dean gets his wallet out of his front pockets and hands her his driver’s license. She takes a loot at it and then seemingly satisfied with its legitimacy, she stands up and walks towards the door. 

“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to make a copy of your ID. Read the party rules, the waiver and nondisclosure agreement, and, well, if you want to get in,  _ sign them _ .”

With a playful wink, she wants out, closing the door behind him, leaving Dean with some privacy to go through the papers, which he is grateful for as he starts reading the party rules. The list is quite long and his eyes fly through the sentences, skipping the obvious ones like ‘ _ no cameras or recording devices are permitted’ _ , but pausing at things like ‘ _ what you hear, see, taste and experience at the event must stay with you. Please respect everyone’s privacy and remember these events are confidential’ _ .

_ Taste? _ Dean frowns, trying to imagine what the hell that’s supposed to mean. Besides bodily fluids, what the hell else is there to taste that he needs to keep confidentiality about?

_ ‘When observing play-in-progress, do not interrupt or freely join in unless you have expressly asked permission and/or have been expressly invited to join in.’ _

_ ‘Participants who are gagged must prearrange visual signals that correspond to those above and inform one of the PMs on duty.’ _

“Jesus,” Dean mutters to himself.  _ So people seriously will be having sex out in the open, in front of everyone? _

_ No blood, vomit or scat (fecal) play is allowed under any circumstances. Violators of this rule will be expelled immediately without refund or any other compensation. _

“Well, thank fuck for that.”

The waiver and nondisclosure agreement are quite straightforward, they release the event’s organisers from liability for any possible injuries during scenes and swear Dean to secrecy in regards to anything he does or the identity of anyone he meets, but there still are peculiar things, such as ‘ _ I swear and affirm that I am not a private investigator gathering information for a client _ ’. Dean can totally imagine that being a problem.

He hesitates with the pen hovering over the paper for just a second before he decides to let go and sign it already, just as Rowena comes back and hands him his ID back. She grabs his paper, checks his signature and smiles at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Well, darling, that’s all we needed to do, you can join the party now,” she says, stretching a hand out towards the door. “There’s a simple gathering at the start of these things, you can hang out in the bar for as long as you want. We don’t recommend drinking too much. Whenever you feel comfortable, you can go down to the dungeon and explore your fantasies. If you want to change into something else, the dressing room is downstairs.”

An uncomfortable shiver runs down Dean’s spine; something about displaying his darkest, most secret desires out in the open and admitting he belongs here still gives him a great deal of anxiety. He’ll go to the bar alright, but he will  _ not _ go down into the dungeon. He’s not there...  _ yet _ at least.

As soon as he joins the party, he realises he stands out and not in a good way; he is indeed the only idiot dressed so informally. Everyone else is wearing fine dark clothes, many men are in suits, women in usually tight dresses. Still, it’s better than what he’d hoped for, he had assumed people would already be naked or half way through.

_ That’s for the dungeon then, I guess. Stay away from the dungeon and you should be fine, just stay away from the sex dungeon… _

Dean makes a bee line for the bar and sits on a stool, trying to pretend for a second that he’s just at any other bar, a ‘normal’ one. He asks for a beer, downs half of it a bit too fast, then turns around on his seat to look around. There are already a lot of people inside the packed large room, friends and dates gathered around their booths, some loners here and there waiting patiently for someone to join them. An attractive woman catches his eyes from a distance and smiles at him. She’s the type of women Dean would usually go for without a doubt; nice breasts, long legs, pretty smile, but instead he quickly looks away from her, uninterested. Only one thing matters to him right then; Cas isn’t there yet.

Disappointed but somehow also relieved, he turns around once more to face the bar.

“Waiting for someone?” the barman asks him. “A daddy dom maybe?”

“ _ What? _ ” Dean snaps, looking up in surprise.

The man in front him seems taken aback by his reaction and his smile drops. “Sorry, you just look like a bit of a nervous sub. First time here?”

Dean swallows hard, rosy cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, is it that obvious?”

The barman nods. “Careful, doms love newbies.”

Dean comes to realise the barman wasn’t kidding. As the night progresses and he drinks to drown his anxiety while waiting for Cas to show up, two men and a woman try their luck with him, inviting him drinks he refuses and offering him to show him around the dungeon. He turns them down, pleasantly surprised by how nice they are when he does, then decides to retreat to a more hidden corner of the room where he can wait in peace. When he stands up and makes his way to a couch in a corner of the room, every in Dean’s surrounding slightly spinning around him, he realises he’s drunk more than he wishes he had but still grips his new, full beer like it’s glued to his hand. 

He lets himself fall on the comfortable, red couch. It faces away from the entrance but he has the stupid idea that Castiel will find him if he just stays there long enough. He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. He’s no idea when Novak is coming but he usually works late,  _ too fucking late _ , doing over-time more usual than not. He checks his messages, his social media apps even though he hates them, plays Bubble Shooter for a while ( _ aren’t I the light of the party?,  _ he thinks with embarrassment), checks the time and turns around to look over his shoulder in case he sees Castiel, then turns around again to play some more. Bored and itching to talk to someone, he starts texting Sam. He hesitates for the shortest second and then, encouraged by the alcohol, he writes what he wants to say and presses send before he can take it back.

> _ I’m doing something stupid. _

It’s a cry for help he realises, closing his eyes and sighting. 

_ I shouldn’t be here, fuck, what if he isn’t happy to see me? _

Sam’s reply comes faster than Dean had expected.

< _ Aren’t you always? _

Dean can help but snort, imagining his baby brother looking at him with a shit-eating grin, trying to lighten the mood. Then a stab of longing for home pierces through his chest; Sam would know exactly what to do, what to say to talk some sense into Dean, he’s always been good at giving advice.

< _ Seriously though, what are you doing? Are you okay? _

Chewing at his lower lip, he debates what to respond. The first text in itself was a mistake born out of impulse, the second must be thought out carefully. The truth is off limits, how can he possibly begin to explain the situation he got himself into?

> _ I can’t tell you. _

_ > And, yeah, I’m fine. Drunk. Anxious. But I’m fine.  _

< _ Why can’t you tell me? _

> _ I’ve outdone myself this time, Sammy. _

Two seconds later, his baby brother is phoning him. Dean panics and hangs up.

< _ Dean pick up you’re worrying me. _

_ > Can’t, too loud at the bar. _

Which,  _ technically _ , he thinks, isn’t a lie.

< _ Go home dude. _

Dean sighs again. He knows he should, he  _ knows _ , but he’s glue to the sofa.

> _ I’m waiting for- _

Delete, delete, delete.

> _ I have a minor crush on- _

He deletes the words again, faster this time, like it pains him to stare at them a second longer.

He taps his foot on the floor anxiously, trying to come up with what he wants to say. His chest feel tight and the truth hangs at the edge of his tongue, begging to get out, to tell  _ someone _ about Cas, just one more soul in the entire world.

> _ I’m waiting for someone. _

_ < Is that the girl you’ve been seeing? _

_ > How the hell do you know I’m seeing someone?  _

_ < I have my sources. _

_ > I’m gonna kill Benny when I get home. _

_ < Well how else am I supposed to know stuff if you never tell me anything meaningful? Can I at least know her name? _

Dean down whatever is left of his beer in one go, licks his lips and writes one word.

> _ Cas _

< _ Is she giving you a hard time? Stop putting up with people who give you shit, Dean. _

_ > It’s not like that. _

_ Cas doesn’t give me a hard time, he makes me feel great,  _ Dean thinks with a rather bittersweet voice inside his head. Every time they’re together, Dean feels special and worthy, and when he goes home after seeing Cas he longs to be back near him.

< _ Then what’s the problem? _

Again, Dean is lost of words, unable to explain the situation without sharing secrets he’s not willing to reveal. What  _ is _ the problem indeed? What the hell is wrong with him, why is he running after Cas like this? Jealousy doesn’t look nice on him at all and he feels ashamed of himself for being so possessive, so pathetic. Perhaps it is time, after all, to stop for a second and figure out what it is he’s been avoiding discussing with himself. His…  _ feelings _ …

Dean shivers.

Running a hand down his face, he starts writing a reply, some bullshit lie about how he’s just drunk and tired. Before he can finish though, a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, making him jump to his feet. Dean realises it’s a mistake fast as the room around him spins and he stumbles backwards, into the wall. Cas catches him, grabbing Dean by the arms and pinning him to the wall.

Except it’s  _ not  _ Cas at all, he realises, trying to pull back when he comes face to face with some other random, older dude, only to feel more trapped between that man and the wall.

“Careful there,” he says with a voice that makes the hairs on Dean’s back stand, “you’re intoxicated. Do you need a ride home?”

The man in front of him gets terribly close, pressing him flat against the wall in a way that would have been totally hot if it  _ had _ been indeed Cas but feels awfully wrong and threatening coming from this stranger instead. Too stunned and confused to say anything, Dean takes a fraction of a second to look at the guy. Everything’s wrong about him, his twisted smile, the creepy intense look on his eyes that Dean finds revolting, the entire air about him, and Dean knows, he feels it in his gut, that this is a vile person, someone he should get away from.

He’s too suddenly aware how really hidden he was in his dark corner. He’s never felt freaked out like this before, even though he’s been in fights plenty of times, but then again he was never targeted by someone he can only describe as a sexual predator. Dean feels the hairs on his arms stand up, his skin dirty where the guy touches him. He wants to tell the creep to move, to leave him alone, but he chokes on the words and a hundred different emotions so instead he tries pushing away but the older man’s grip on his arms tighten. He’s stronger than he looks and Dean’s drunker than he’d realised, but still the disaster bi angrily and clumsily tries to fight back and wiggles out of the other’s grip, then stops dead on his tracks when he feels the other’s erection against his thigh, deeply disgusted by it.

The guy must see it on his face, for he says, “come on, boy, you’ve got sub written all over your face. Isn’t this why you came to the corner? For  _ privacy _ ?”

Shame burns Dean’s cheeks a deep red color. He doesn’t understand what it is about him that so clearly shows others what he is, he wishes he could turn it off, shut it down, but where would he be if he id though? Without Cas, possible. Would that be worth it?

_ Find Cas _ , his mind shouts at him, waking him up from his pity party.

He has no words to defend himself because it  _ is _ true, he is a sub, whether he wants others to know it or not, but he finally finds the balance and the right position to knee the perv on his private parts. The man gasps in pain and lets go of his arms out of instinct as he bends over himself in pain while a pretty shaken up Dean half stumbles away, heart racing on his chest and vomit threatening to still out out of nerves.

Fixing his eyes on the door he knows to be the way he came in from, he sets a straight course towards it, apologizing as he runs into a few people, stumbling drunk and bumping shoulders with a few happy guests. A guy not so gently tells him to watch it, Dean apologises and backs away. He wants to leave, he wants air, he wants to leave this place behind, feeling like that creep could get him at some other corner if he stays for much longer. 

“Sorry, I- I don’t want any trouble-”

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart jolts and he turns on his heels, looking for that familiar voice like a lost sailor looks for the lighthouse in the dark. Then he sees him, Castiel, looking dashing on his fancy dark suit, a confused and concerned look on his face as he advances through the crowd towards him, a couple of people following him - _ his friends _ , Dean realises with that guilty feeling of having intruded in his dom’s life without permission to ruin his fun.

The moment his dom touches him, a gentle hand coming to cup his cheek, the once proud frat boy almost melts on the spot. If feels right, it just feels so  _ right _ when Cas touches him.

“Dean, are you okay? You look sick.”

Dean opens and closes his mouth silently like a fish out of water, oh boy does he feel like one. His eyes venture past Castiel, watching the guy that tried to, if he didn’t downright do it, assault him join the main crowd again. Their eyes meet and Dean’s jaw tightens, feeling sick at his stomach again. Cas follows the direction on Dean’s eyes and his face changes from worried to furious almost right away.

“Alastair,” he growls under his breath, then almost immediately lunges towards the guy, pushing people out of the way as he does, causing quite the scene. 

Two of his friends, a shorter woman with dark hair and a blond dude Dean’s seen before, hurry after him, both of them grabbing Castiel back from under his arms before he can get into a fight. People quickly get out of the way, a glass get knocked over and shatters in the ground, Dean can feel all eyes coming and going between the five of them.

“What did you do?” Castiel snarls, trying to break free from his friends. “I’ll kill you if you touched him!”

“I didn’t do anything,” the guy says in a pretend offended tone with that voice that rings all kinds of red flags in Dean’s mind. 

Dean wants to do something, to speak out and defend Cas who at the most just looks like a crazy person picking up a fight, but when he opens his mouth, instead of words his lunch comes out. The people around him back away, complaining under their breath and throwing him nasty looks. Dean bolts then, unable to take the shame anymore. He wants to disappear, to just go home and pretend that night never happened.

The cold air welcomes him like an old friend. He makes a pause to take a deep breath and then starts towards his car, his legs shaking from adrenaline. He doesn’t make it far before he hears Castiel shouting his name.

“Oh,  _ God, _ ” he sights to himself, “no, no, no…”

“Dean, wait!”

“Cas, it's fine,” he slurs over his shoulder loudly, “go back to the party, I'm just gonna go home.”

“The hell you are!” Cas protests, snapping the keys right out of Dean's trembling hands as soon as he finds them on their pockets. “You're not driving, you're drunk!”

Dean takes a deep breath and looks up, forcing a casual smile as he leans on his car for dear balance. Cas looks upset, so damn upset Dean wishes he could punch himself on the face for being such a selfish fool.

“'s fine, I’m, I’ll take a taxi, happy? Go back to the party, have fun.”

Castiel sighs and shakes his head, slowly approaching Dean and putting his arms around him. “Dean, you're pale and you're clearly upset. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Dean wants to protest, to push him away because he doesn't deserve that kindness, he's ruined everything, but Cas is there, strong and gentle, leading him towards the passenger's door, and he can't for the life of him find a good reason to send him away. Carefully, Castiel helps him to the seat, closes the door behind him and walks around the car to get on the driver's seat. Dean watches him turn the car's engine on, a momentary wild panic emerging from him as he watches someone else drive his precious Baby, but Cas drives slowly and doesn't make any sudden movements or rushes at the stop signs. 

There's a silence between them that neither tense nor comfortable, just silence born of both of their inabilities to say anything. Dean is mute out of embarrassment and Cas just keeps his eyes focused on the road, gripping the steering wheel tightly like he’s worried it’s going to come off or something. Stealing quick glances in his direction, the nervous sub tries to read his dom’s expression. Is he mad, is he embarrassed of what Dean did? With every second that passes, Dean just melts further and further into the comfortable leather of the car, wishing it would just swallow him already.

Then finally, at a red light, Cas reaches out to comb his fingers through Dean’s short hair, eyes still facing forwards. His touch is nothing short of tenderness and Dean leans into it, relieved that Castiel isn’t mad at him.

“Will you tell me what happened?” the young lawyer asks softly, his request an open invitation to talk about it more than an demand.

Dean shakes his head. 

“I’ve heard things about him, I know he’s... not a good mad. If you would have told me you were coming, I would have told you to meet up before. To this… sort of party,” Castiel swallows, measuring his words. Dean looks at him, sees him hesitate for a moment. For some reason he still won’t meet Dean’s eyes.  _ He’s either a very careful driver or he  _ is _ mad at me after all _ , he worries. “It’s better if someone shows you around first. Some people find it… hard to adapt to, I suppose.”

After a brief pause, when Dean realises that’s it, Cas has nothing else to say to him, he mumbles somewhat shyly, “I wanted to surprise you,” but honestly he thinks to himself,  _ I wasn’t sure you wanted me there. _

Cas just nods in acknowledgment of his words, but doesn’t reply. 

_ Yeah, he definitely didn’t want me there,  _ Dean thinks,  _ he’s just too polite to say it _ .

When they finally pull over, Dean’s at first relieved to see they’re at Castiel’s and not his place because there’s no way Benny’s not going to know something’s up if he does, but then slowly, as they go up the stairs in silence, Cas shadowing Dean like he’s afraid he’s going to fall, he starts to realise what Castiel must be expecting them to do and for the very first time, Dean  _ truly _ doesn’t feel up to it. His heart starts racing again as the door of the apartment opens and Cas leads him inside. 

His handsome lawyer shrugs his trenchcoat off and pats Dean’s shoulder on his hand to the kitchen. “Go lie down,” he tells Dean over his shoulder, “I’ll bring you some water.”

With a knot on his stomach, Dean drags his feet towards the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, hyper aware of himself, of the place were he felt that weirdo’s boner against his leg. Again he feels disgust run through him like a shiver down his spine. He can’t possible imagine having sex right now without that guy’s creepy face haunting him.

_ Well, then, you shouldn’t have gone meddling in Castiel’s life. You wanted this, you wanted him to take  _ you _ home… _

Dean takes a deep breath and begins to undress.

_ It’s cool, it’s just Cas, just Cas… _

Before he can get cold feet, he loses his shirt and under t-shirt in a hurry, then go the shoes. A stab of pain on the front of his forehead announces tomorrow’s hangover headache as he leans down to pull his socks out. He groans in pain just as Castiel comes in with a glass of water.

“Are you okay? Do you want something for your head?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dean shrugs his worries off, putting on a winning smile and leaning back on the bed on his elbows. Trying to fake a playful tone, he sings, “so, how do you want me?”

Castiel frowns at him, taken aback. He sets the glass of water in Dean’s nightstand and pushes his drunk friends’ legs off the floor to help him into bed properly, then walks away.

“Dean, I’m not going to fuck you. You’re upset and you’re right to be. I know  _ something _ happened, I’m not stupid.”

Dean sits up, watches him get undressed calmly in the dark, in a way that denotes no hurry, indeed, to fuck Dean. It makes him feel guiltier and even though he knows he shouldn’t, that it’s not a good idea right now, he wants to please Cas, wants to be used by him.

“Cas, it’s okay. I ruined your night, ‘s the least I can do. I cock-blocked you and embarrassed you in front of your friends.”

But Cas just shakes his head and gets into bed, t-shirt still on and all, then pulls the blankets over Dean like they’re an old couple getting ready for bed.With a hand on his chest, Cas softly pushes Dean down into bed with him.

“You don’t owe me anything, Dean, what kind of dom would I be if I disregarded your feelings for my own please? Beside, you didn’t cock-block me,” he whispers in the dark. “I wasn’t going to sleep with anyone, I just… like the parties, community.”

Dean rests on the bed, lost on his thoughts for a moment. Those words are incredibly satisfactory, so damn nice to hear, they echo in his mind over and over again dissolving his fears of having to share Castiel with anyone else.

“Come here,” his dom orders gently, opening his arms for him. Dean rolls onto his side and leans against Cas, burying his face on his dom’s neck. Castiel turns his head to the side and plants a kiss on his forehead, a hand slowly scratching Dean’s back with tenderness. “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you, I- I’ve invited people before and then they get… freaked out… it’s not for everybody I know, and I…” 

Cas sighs.

“What?” Dean asks curiously against his neck.

“I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of pervert or deviant... I don’t want you to think badly of me, Dean.”

Dean finds himself snuggling closing to Cas, his ear resting on Novak’s chest. He can hear the heart beating on his ear, it’s rhythm almost rocking an emotionally exhausted Dean to sleep. The world seems to be so still and all there is is the touch of Castiel’s skin, his strong arms around Dean, the covers over them. It feels great, it feels familiar and safe and loving and like Dean wants to stay there, like that, forever. He can’t wait for those sleepy kisses Castiel gives him in the middle of the night, he treasures those moments. He treasures  _ all _ moments with him.

“I would never, Cas.”

Reluctantly but unable to deny it, Dean realises he’s in love with Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments mean the world to me <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. For the millionth time, my apologies for the delay. After my dom moved away I was pretty damn sad and my motivation to write totally died but now IT'S BACK, I'm feeling quite better already. Seriously it's like detoxing from drugs, wtf.
> 
> This time I asked @Riverchester to proof read the chapter because I am very much aware of the multiple mistakes/typos I make when I write. Go read her stuff, she's awesome.
> 
> ALSO, my nephew was born, yay!
> 
> ANYWAY, enjoy!

Once the thought is out and acknowledged on his mind, it's all Dean can think about when Castiel looks at him with that unfairly pretty smile of his and those eyes that stare at him in a way they make Dean feel goddamn butterflies in his stomach and hope that Cas, perhaps by some miracle, feels the same way.

 _I love you_ , Dean thinks hopelessly, his heart tightening with both affection and crippling fear as he stares at the object of his powerful affections.

As the days go by, Dean tries to go back to the point where he wasn’t absolutely and irrevocably certain that he was in love with Cas. So simple were the days when he lived in denial, where he could just pretend he was just high in endorphins due to awesome sex. But now it’s not just the sex he craves but the little things, the more intimate soft gestures, like when Cas kisses the back of Dean’s neck in the dead of night or when they hold hands while watching TV and Castiel draws circles with his thumb on Dean’s skin.

 _You’re exaggerating, it can’t be love, not so soon, so fast. This is just a crush, it’ll go away,_ he tells himself in a desperate attempt to deny his feelings, but it’s no good, even the voice in his head doesn’t sound convinced by his own lies.

Maybe when he’s alone or distracted he can ignore this new revelation that is making his life impossible. He can almost pretend he’s completely straight when he hangs out with his friends on Sunday, behaving like a caveman (Charlie’s terms) and discussing girls - everyone still wants to know who the fuck Dean’s dating and why he’s so secretive about it... but when he’s with Castiel, he feels the love - _love!-_ rushing through his every cell. He’s in love with Cas. He loves his body, mind and soul, his kindness, his weird wonderful self. Dean wants to be his friend, sub and companion, he wants to see him as often as possible and wake up by his side. He daydreams of being with him, cooking for him, caring for him, watching him grow up into a successful, happy man. But in no time at all they will become friends, fuck buddies at best, and it devastates him. The end of the biggest adventure of his life is coming to an end, the deadline haunting Dean like a ticking time bomb.

Agony, it’s _agony_ to be secretly in love with Cas. The healthiest and wisest decision would be to take a step back and ask Castiel for some space. They should stop now, that’s what makes the most sense. They should stop having sex and acting like boyfriends before Dean’s feelings intensify even further, but he can’t bring himself to end it - whatever _it_ is _-,_ he can’t even begin to consider the possibility of telling Cas they should stop fucking, let alone seeing each other.

Dean’s never been wise at making decision so he does quite the opposite of what he knows he should do and instead of trying to put some space between them, he tries to spend as much time with his dom as he possibly can. Sunday is spent at home with his roommates but as soon as Monday they are back at it again, stealing at least a couple of minutes to see each other through their busy schedules. Dean takes them for a ride after school; it’s fucking late, he should be heading home to have dinner and hit the sack, but the idea of hooking up with Cas on the back of his car in a dark corner of the park sounds way more appealing (even though he knows he will be falling asleep on his ass the next morning during the morning classes). Baby is not inconspicuous at all and they are parked at a rather well known hook-up spot so there is in fact a chance that they can get caught but it slips Dean’s mind entirely as Cas straddles his lap, presses their bodies tightly together so Dean feels like the meat on a sandwich between the car seat and his dom - he’s _really not_ complaining though- and edges him for almost an hour. He smiles to himself, amused as Dean gets almost close enough to cum as Cas jacks him off and bites and kisses his neck, only to stop and hold his cock tightly to keep him from cumming. Dean holds him tight, as close as possible, breathing in the same air as his dom, keeping his eyes closed in an attempt not to let his heart eyes show. If he could make a wish it would be to feel this way forever, high on pleasure, the smell of Cas and the taste of his lips.

The next day they’re at it again, Cas’ place this time. Novak invites him over for dinner (which is practically cooked by Dean) to tell him that he’ll be travelling to a Conference starting that same Friday for a week. Something drops inside Dean’s stomach; he only has Cas for a little over two more weeks and he’s going to lose 7 entire days of his dom during that time?

“I always knew there was the possibility of going, my boss told us she’d take the two interns with the best productivity with her, but I figured it wouldn’t be me after getting in trouble at the office. I guess she likes me more than it seems. Me and Hannah will be going, all paid by the office. It’s a really great opportunity, those conferences are great for networking. It looks good on my CV too.”

Dean thinks he might be imagining it but Cas sounds almost disappointed as well and like he’s trying to convince himself of what great news this is. Dean could tell him that he’s jealous he’ll be travelling with that short girl with a massive crush on Cas or that he is instantly resentful of the days they will _not_ get to spend together, but instead he puts on a brave face and shows support, like a good friend would. Like a good boyfriend would.

“Do you need me to drive you to the airport?” Dean offers, trying to sound casual.

Castiel smiles but shakes his head. “Oh, no, that’s okay, I’ll take a cab. Office pays.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll drive you. I can come over on Thursday- if you’re cool with that. I’ll drive you early in the morning."

Cas looks like he wants nothing more but to say yes but is still unwilling to abuse Dean’s kindness. “Are you sure?”

“I’m offering, Cas, just say yes, okay?” 

Dean rolls his eyes at him, but honestly wants nothing more but to spend the night with Cas.

His dom accepts, then takes him to bed to show him some gratitude. Dean never thought being a sub included so much pleasure, so much devotion from his dom.

On Thursday, Castiel is home late so Dean lets himself in. Castiel’s small suitcase is already prepared and waits patiently for its departure the next day by the door. Dean looks at it for a full minute like it’s offending him. 

He makes shepherd's pie for dinner. The apartment is so quiet, his thoughts sound so loud in his head. He can’t get that cute girl out of his mind. Hannah’s going to have the week of his life with Cas.

 _They are going on a_ conference _trip, Dean, it must be boring as hell,_ he argues in an attempt to conform himself.

_Yeah but they will be bored together. Cas likes to fuck when he’s bored._

_But they are_ interested _in law, they shouldn’t be too bored, should they?_

_But I bet they also have a lot of parties. And she’s hot, come on, admit it. You’d do her if she came on to you. Or at least you would have, before Cas._

Dean takes a deep breath.

_Stop talking to yourself, you’re turning into a crazy person, Dean._

_And stop thinking about her! Stop it._

But he can’t. He pictures her with a cute little red dress, laughing at all of Castiel’s jokes (which are extremely rare), those stupid perfect and delicate curls of hers bouncing in synch with her breasts. She’s going to come on to him, Dean knows at least he would try, it’d be the perfect opportunity. And Cas is promiscuous - Dean’s not judging him, it’s just a fact, it’s something Dean would say of himself as well-, he’d totally go for Hannah. He’d be an idiot not to take the chance, she _is_ attractive and so obviously eager to impress him, much to Dean’s despair.

Knowing he can’t do anything to stop Castiel from sleeping with Hannah if he wants to, Dean still sets his mind to blowing Cas’ mind that night, as if one night of great pleasure could satisfy the dom for an entire week. Dean leaves the pie in the microwave to keep it warm and all but jumps Castiel when he arrives, pushing him against the wall and diving in for a hungry kiss. Castiel seems somewhat stunned with surprise while his sub takes the reins, but he doesn’t even try to stop him to switch roles.

“Let me tie you up, please, sir?” Dean asks in between kisses. He’d be fully hard if he wasn’t so goddamn nervous in his belly. Nervous because Cas is going to sleep with someone else, nervous because he wants to impress a dom that has twice the experience he does, so damn _nervous_ because he cares so damn _much_.

Castiel doesn’t lose a second to think about it, much to Dean’s surprise. He nods, breathless and eager, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips while he starts to undress in a hurry.

“I’ll get the ropes.”

While Cas disappears to the bedroom, kicking his feet out of his pants on the way, Dean hurries to the kitchen and drags one of the chairs until it’s in front of the window. It’s not so easy for someone to see them from that angle, but it’s still possible. He takes a look outside the window, into the buildings that tower around Castiel’s; no one’s watching. _Yet_ , at least. His thoughts racing on his mind with a little doubt born out of embarrassment, he can’t decide whether he wants someone to watch or not. He decides he wants someone to watch, he just doesn’t want them to know who they are. Cas, on the other hand, would really enjoy it if someone did.

Cas returns, naked in all his glory, with two long red ropes. Dean swallows hard as he watches his dom approach him, stares at the defined lines of Castiel’s hard thighs, the v line on his lower stomach, his chest and shoulders. Castiel, looking proud in his lack of clothing and satisfied with Dean's reaction to it, offers the ropes to Dean and sits on the chair, quiet but attentive.

“Do you need help with the knots?” he asks.

“No, I’ve got it, just sit still.”

Dean takes one of the ropes, takes both ends and joins them together. Kneeling down by the chair, he softly grabs one of Castiel’s wrists and brings it down to rest at his dom’s side. They stop for a moment to look at each other. For the tiniest fraction of a moment Dean thinks Castiel looks nervous.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises, half-teasing, half-serious. He wonders if Cas has ever let anyone take control before. He kind of hopes not, he wants to be special, if only for once, for this one person.

Castiel nods, encouraging him to continue. Dean makes a knot that forms a loop with the rope, leaving just enough space for Cas’ bicep to fit in, and guides his dom’s arm inside. He tightens the rope around the arm, making sure it isn’t cutting the blood flow, then brings the rope around the side of the backrest. He moves the ropes as gracefully as possible, alternating between circling the chair and the arm, trapping Cas slowly, little by little, until he can’t move his arm anymore, then brings the rope to the front of the chair next to trap his companion’s ankle with the foot of the leg by doing the same as before.

When he’s done, Dean takes a second to admire his work; it’s sloppy, the way the rope goes around the chair and Cas’ arm, but it looks well done in the sense that his dom seems truly trapped in his seat from that side.

“How does it feel?” he asks. “Is it too tight?”

Cas shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. Go on, do the other side.”

Dean takes the other rope and proceeds just as before, making a mental note of trying to be more neat this time. He’ll improve with practice, he thinks, if he continues his kinky journey after Cas… or _with_ Cas, hopefully. When he finishes, he moves to kneel in front of his dom, massaging his ankles just in case, making sure the ropes aren’t hurting him.

Castiel is quiet, more so than often. It makes Dean uneasy, insecure. 

“Cas, are you sure about this? You look… a little uncomfortable, to be honest. It’s okay if you’re not into it.”

Trapped in the chair, Castiel can’t do anything but give him a small smile.

“I don’t usually let people take control,” he says in that beautifully grave tone of his. Then there’s that spark in his eyes again, a little forced but still present, that tells Dean it’s showtime. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts slow, kissing the inside of Castiel’s thighs, getting close to his dick but not close enough, just loving the frustration emanating from Cas, the way he holds his breath when Dean _almost_ gets to his true destination but backs away at the last moment. When he finally gets to Castiel’s almost already hard cock, he does nothing but tease him again with the tip of his tongue and small, almost gentle kisses. Cas watches him stay at the tip, Dean’s mouth moving softly and meticulously, with his lips parted in a silent sigh. Without breaking eye contact, Dean gets on with it, moving progressively faster, taking more and more into his mouth.

“God, you look so beautiful,” he groans. “Come on, take it all in.”

Unable to say no to his dom’s request, Dean complies although he still goes slow, keeping the pace pleasurable enough but without making Cas cum just yet. He edges him for a good half hour, stopping abruptly when it looks like Castiel is about to lose it, jacking him off in between breaks so his jaw can relax. Dean just loves to sit back on his heels and watch Cas breathe heavily, his beautiful naked body tensing with pleasure, his chest heaving. He wants him like this forever, completely undone by Dean’s touch, safe and happy under his watch… and maybe that of a kinky neighbour, Dean still doesn’t want to look outside the window.

At last Castiel has enough and does his best to move his hips towards Dean’s mouth, chasing his orgasm, promising Dean to give him the spanking of his life if he stops sucking him off. Dean considers the possibility of misbehaving; after all he loves having bruises  in his ass, the marks of Castiel's presence in his life, but in the end he decides to comply. Castiel cums hard, groaning Dean’s name loudly, head thrown back and hands curled into fists.

 _Take that, Hannah,_ Dean thinks with satisfaction as he drinks down his friend’s cum. _Top that._

He can pretend for a while he’s won the game, while they have dinner and while Castiel holds him through the night, but the next day when he’s dropping Cas off at the airport he feels sick on his stomach just imagining them banging that same night in a fancy hotel. Watching Cas dressed in his side suit, trench coat and all, with a nice suitcase, heading off to a Conference, Dean can’t help but notice how different he is from Cas. They’re like oil and water, only temporarily mixed for a split second while some crazy force of nature forces them together. But what happens when the excitement is over, when Castiel moves on to the next partner? To the next straight boy…

Without thinking he grabs Castiel by the tie and pulls him in for a quick kiss. They’re surrounded by people, but who gives a shit if it might be the end of them.

“Have a safe flight.”

Castiel blinks, perplexed, then his surprised expression softens and he smiles kindly. “I’ll text you when I land, okay?”

Dean nods and smiles like it’s fine, like he’s not having a million thoughts running through his mind, _way_ faster that he can process them, but he leaves the airport without any expectations of hearing from Cas soon despite his promises. He gets to the football practise just barely on time and tries to distract himself, but he’s in a miserable mood, borderline moody from waking up _way too early_ only to drop off his _not_ boyfriend who is travelling with a hot brunette who is _totally_ into him because who in their right mind _wouldn’t_ be into him? Not Dean’s greatest start to the day.

He makes a point not to check his conversation with Castiel all day. He feels stupid, honestly childish, but if Cas is going to have a great time with someone else Dean doesn’t want to know about it. Sam would probably slap his face for behaving like a 15 years old  if he knew what his older brother was doing, but Dean has this stubborn urge to make Castiel wait for his attention in an attempt to gain a (false) sense of being under control, a sort of _he can’t ignore me if I ignore him first_ tactic going about it.

The temptation to take a peek is real though. He sees the messages just waiting there for him while he texts Charlie to make plans for the weekend. The last message is a photo, he sees the little icon and wonders if it’s a dick pic. He waits all day before checking the conversation, right up until he’s about to go to bed. Dean knows he won’t be able to sleep without looking at the messages first, he’s practically bursting with the need to talk to Cas, but he doesn’t want to know, he _really_ doesn’t want to know if Castiel is out there getting his dick sucked by someone else.

Dean takes a deep breath, gets ready for the worse, and presses his finger to the screen, right over the little icon with Cas’ face.

It’s not a dick he comes face to face with but really terrible photos of a bunch of clouds. Dean makes a mental note that Cas, contrary to popular belief, isn’t perfect; photography is _not_ his thing. He tells Dean that he’s landed, then texts him when he gets to the hotel and sends him a picture of the small but very nice room he’s staying in, making a small note that he is thankful he doesn’t have to share it with anyone else. He proceeds to be quiet for a couple of hours, then texts some (again not very good) pictures of an old and fancy room where dinner is being held and tells Dean about some lawyers he met and the panels he’s going to be attending tomorrow. They all sound terribly boring, but Cas seems excited.

The last texts were sent less than an hour ago and Dean stares at the words, feeling like an asshole.

< _How was your day?_

Then 15 minutes later,

_ < I guess you had a busy day, I hope practise went well. _

_ < I wanted to wait up to say good night but I’m quite tired and I have an early start tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow? _

_ < Have a great night, Dean. _

“Well, you’re an idiot, Dean, it’s official,” he mumbles to himself.

With a heavy sigh, he lays down on his bed and closes his eyes. 

 _I’m not good at this,_ he thinks. _The_ one time _you’re not supposed to fall in love with someone, you do._

Dean takes his phone and texts Cas.

> _Sorry I didn’t get back to you in time. We’ll talk tomorrow, handsome._

He sends the text before he can regret calling Castiel handsome and goes to sleep.

In the morning he wakes up to find no new messages. Something tightens in his chest - remorse, worry, both?- and he crosses his fingers and hopes Cas didn’t realise Dean had been purposely ignoring him yesterday. He goes about his day normally, trying not to be too conscious of his phone, its weight on his pocket. This time he won’t ignore any incoming messages but it can’t be healthy either to live his life waiting by the phone for Castiel’s next message.

Benny asks him to go for a run with him, Dean thinks it’s just what he needs to distract himself. They run for an hour, stop at the park to watch the ducks and talk about football, school, life, then they head back again. Benny doesn’t ask again who Dean’s dating but he knows his friend wants to. They all want to but they also know he keeps his secrets and his feelings close to him, like his father.

On the way back, Cas texts him, asks him if he wants to skype for a couple of minutes. Dean sees Benny eyeing him curiously as Dean tenses up for nothing, it’s no secret Dean and Castiel are friends and text, but he can’t help being uncomfortable even texting with Cas around other people. He tells his dom he can’t, but that they can talk later that night.

< _Okay._

The answer is a little dry and it makes Dean uneasy. He’s really not trying to push Castiel away this time, he’s just too busy keeping them a secret, what with Benny trying to look over his shoulder to see who Dean’s texting.

A couple of minutes later though Cas adds,

< _I’ll call you around 11 if it’s not too late for you. Looking forwards to it._

Dean smiles to himself, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders with just a few words from Cas, and puts his phone away.

Dean does what his _mom_ taught him to do when anxious: clean. He cleans the hell out of his room, the bathroom and the kitchen. Benny looks at him scrubbing the bathtub with all his might from the door like he’s gone insane, but makes no comment at all. One of his roommates even joins in at some point and helps him clean the kitchen. When he stops to really examine the place he wonders how they haven’t all died of something horrible and contagious, they really ought to do a deep cleaning more often. If only more of them were anxious and in love, the house would be spotless.

Charlie comes to save the day; they hang out during the afternoon in Dean’s room, kind of studying but really getting distracted every couple of minutes to talk about something. Talking to Charlie is like talking to a sister, the conversation flows easily and naturally all the time, and he considers for a moment talking to her about Cas, but when he tries to bring up the subject he gets cold feet immediately and looks down at his book again, not really knowing what he’s reading anymore. 

Around 7 they have dinner and at 8 they leave with Benny to a party. With no prospects of running into Castiel and no desire to hook up with anyone, Dean is able to relax and enjoy the company of his friends. The entertainment of the night is Garth who, somehow, is out on a date with a girl so hot Dean would be jealous if he wasn’t kind of leaning more towards the gay end of the bi-scale than the hetero. 

“I don’t want to sound like a bitch, and I _love_ Garth,” Pamela starts while they watch Garth and her date dance and laugh just meters away from where they’re sitting, “but how the _fuck_ did he get that girl? I would totally be a lesbian for her, look at that ass.”

“Well, he’s really _really_ nice,” Charlie shrugs.

“Maybe he’s got a huge dick,” Benny interjects.

The girls roll their eyes. 

Jo punches his arm. “It’s not all about dicks, Benny, you know that, right?” 

Dean nods in agreement, mind already a little foggy and slow with alcohol after an early start with some beers over dinner with Charlie. “It’s about the moves, bro, the moves!”

The girls agree, Pamela pats his shoulder like he’s special for finally getting that. Dean leans into her hand, enjoying the affection, the joyful atmosphere as he’s already a tad drunk. He laughs; if only they knew he learned only because he’s been with another man...

“Honestly not enough men know the importance of foreplay,” Pamela goes on. “You guys always want us to go down on you for like a week but you can’t go down on a woman for over 5 minutes. I need stimulus, okay?”

Benny wrinkles his nose and then starts to laugh. “Jesus, Pamela, TMI!”

Charlie throws a pillow at him. “Say the full words!”

“Too much information!” he exclaims loudly over the music, then throw the pillow right back at her but hits Dean instead, causing him to spill beer over his shirt. It’s cold as fuck and Dean jumps to his feet.

“Maybe this is why Garth has a date and you don’t, you’re all a bunch of losers,” Dean scolds them half-heartedly while they laugh. “Ugh, I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get a towel.”

Dean navigates through a sea of people, passing Garth on the way and patting his shoulder encouragingly, trying to remember where the host told him the bathroom was. He ends up taking a detour through the kitchen, has the audacity to steal some cheese from the fridge, then goes on. When he gets to the bathroom, he closes the door behind him and plants his hands on the sink, watching his face in the mirror. Things spin ever so slightly around him, just the right amount that it’s fun but not dizzying. He takes his shirt off, then his T-shirt. He grabs a towel and looks at it for a moment before realizing it has no use for him, so he puts it back. He puts his shirt on and squeezes the excess liquid from his T-shirt, then throws it over his shoulder and heads towards the kitchen again.

Just as he is closing the door of the fridge, someone taps his shoulder and he turns around alarmed, a piece of cheese between his teeth. He doesn’t know how to feel when he comes face to face with Lisa.

“Dean Winchester,” she starts, wearing that same smile that made him do a bunch of stupid shit for her in the past, “ drunk cheese thief.”

Dean takes the entire piece of cheese into his mouth and chews it rather ungracefully. 

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” he asks.

She chuckles. “No, I’m not. How are you doing? It’s been a while.”

Dean stares back at her, a little confused. Last time they talked she broke up with her because he was ‘emotionally unavailable’ and ‘immature’. It wasn’t the nicest of conversations, although Dean doesn’t believe she was precisely wrong… Still, he wouldn’t say they parted ways as friends, so the friendly interaction catches him by surprise. 

“I’m… good. Fine, yeah. M’grades are fine, the team is great.”

“That’s great, I’m glad.”

“Thanks.”

Dean nods and purses his lips into a thin line, not sure what to do or say. Lisa looks at him weird, like in the old times, like they haven’t dated already and it turned out badly.

After a moment she says, "I've been doing well too, I got an A in a couple of courses last semester."

"That's great," he replies and then falls mute again.

She smiles and nods too, and now it's obviously clear to both of them the situation is getting a little awkward but Lisa makes no attempt to walk away.

"I'm sorry, what's happening here?* Dean blurts out, too impatient to stand the chit chat anymore. "I thought you hated me."

"Hated you?" she repeats, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Dean, no, not at all. Was I disappointed of how things turned out between us? Yes. But I've been thinking and, I don't know, maybe I was unfair. I mean, you never made me any promises so I had no right to have any expectations. All in all, you treated me well and you showed me a good time."

She shrugs and smiles like she used to when trying to convince him of something, fluttering his eyelashes at him in a way that _used to_ be irresistible for Dean, then takes a step closer towards him.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is," she takes a deep breath, cheeks turning a little red with embarrassment, "I kinda miss you."

"Oh," is all he can manage. Dean scratches the back of his neck and looks away from her. "Yeah, that's cool, Lisa, but I'm- I'm kind of seeing someone. We're not official or anything but, hmm, yeah. There's that.”

Her smile drops, the disappointment crystal clear in her face. Lisa opens her mouth to say something else, but Dean, desperate for a way out of an uncomfortable situation (as usual), takes his phone out to check the time; it’s 7 minutes to 11 pm, Castiel should be about to call him.

“I gotta go, I’m expecting a call.”

“Oh, I- yeah, okay. I’ll see you around?”

_Yeah, that’s a no._

“Sure.”

He practically flees through the back door leading into the garden and quickly moves away from the party. Just when he’s rounding the exterior of the house towards the front door, Cas calls him. It’s 11 pm on the dot. Dean likes to imagine Castiel waiting for the right time to call him, the thought makes him smile.

“Sup, Cas?” he answers, doing his best to sound casual and not reflect the big smile on his face.

“I’m well, Dean,” Castiel replies, as correct as ever, “how are you? I guess you’re at a party, that’s quite a noisy background.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Dean hurries down the street, away from the party. “I’m out with the gang again.”

“That’s nice. How are your friends?”

“Well, Garth’s got this hot date and we’re just a bunch of sore losers wondering how that happened.”

“You could get a hot date too,” Cas intervenes. 

Dean swallows hard. _Is that what you want me to do?,_ he wonders. _Is that what you’re doing?_

“Nah, I’m not in the mood,” he admits. Then, before he can help himself he asks, “how about you, Cas? I bet there are a lot of hot chicks in the conference?” 

Castiel laughs in the other side of the line. “You’ve never been to a law conference, have you?”

“I’ve missed the last few.”

Again, Cas laughs. Dean smiles despite his heart racing at a million miles per hour, just because he made his crush laugh.

“It’s mostly white baby boomers. Not my type.”

“What about Hannah?”

 _Why are you doing this to yourself?,_ he scolds himself angrily, his grip around the phone tightening as his hand begins to shake a little. _Why would you ask that? Why?_

“What about her?” Cas answers, sounding completely clueless.

“Come on, man, she’s got the hots for you.”

“She’s not really my type.”

Dean scoffs. “How could she _not_ be your type? She’s very attractive.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but she’s boring.”

“What is your type then?” Dean asks as he leans against a tree. He can breathe now, honestly breathe; they might not end up together forever but at least Cas isn’t fucking someone else just yet. That’s enough, at least for now, a small win.

“Right now, I’m into jocks with green eyes, loads of freckles and noisy cars.”

Dean chuckles and smiles from ear to ear, then slips on mud and falls on his ass on the floor.

“Ugh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, sitting up against the tree.

“Are you alright?” his dom’s worried voice comes from the phone. Dean takes it to his ear again.

“Yeah, yeah, I slipped on mud.”

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Just a little,” Dean defends himself.

“You should tone down your drinking,” Castiel argues a little seriously.

Dean scoffs. “And you should tone down the extra hours at work.”

“Okay, deal.”

Dean frowns. _That easy? Really?_ “You serious?”

“I could use a break, I suppose. I’m quite tired lately between work, school and fucking you. You’re a full time job.” Dean hears him take a deep breath from the other side of the line. There’s a momentary pause, a comfortable silence, then Cas asks, “so, what’s your type?”

_You. I love you. I literally just fled from a hot girl for you._

Dean feels his heart being squeezed with the need to say those words but he bites on his tongue rather bitterly, wondering if he’ll ever get to tell Castiel the truth.

He can, at least partially, just once, follow Cas’ previous playfull comment.

“I’m into bossy doms with trench coats.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back soon, shocking, I know!!
> 
> DO YOU HAVE FRENCH FICS TO RECOMMEND? I need to learn French for immigration reasons. I self-taught English through fics, I'll be damned if I can't do the same with French. Anyone got short or one-chapter fics in French to recommend???
> 
> We're almost at the end, guys! Thanks for sticking around <3

It could be the alcohol, it could be the happy atmosphere and all the fun he’s having with his friends, or it could be hope that puts a constant smile on Dean’s face for the rest of the night. Cas hasn’t slept with anyone, doesn’t sound like he’s even trying. Maybe it’s true there’s just no one interesting to sleep with there or maybe it’s something else that kept the young lawyer-wannabe talking on the phone with him for almost 40 minutes. Maybe they’re both in love with each other and Cas is just as much as a chicken as Dean is so he hasn’t said anything yet. Dean decides he likes this option better.

He has a great night with his friends, it’s one of those memorable nights he knows he will remember when he’s older and away from them. He’s almost already melancholic about it, thinking that he never wants it to end. They all get pretty drunk, dance until they’re kicked out of the party and then Charlie heads home with Benny and Dean. She crashes in Dean’s bed and they lay next to each other, too tired to bother to change into something more comfortable.

“I love you, dumbass,” she says, words dragging with exhaustion.

Dean smiles tiredly but happy.

“I love you too. You’re like a sister to me, you know that, right?” 

Charlie rolls to her side and puts her head on his chest.

“You’re such a sap,” she teases him. 

He laughs, putting an arm around her and closing his eyes. The sun is rising but it doesn't bother him, his legs are aching from dancing and walking home, he knows as soon as he puts his mind to it he will fall asleep easily.

“What’s up with you? Why won’t you tell us who you’re dating?” Charlie asks in a barely audible voice. She’s falling asleep, struggling to keep awake.

Dean hesitates, truly tempted to tell her the truth, battling against the need to finally tell someone about Cas. And who better than Charlie to talk to about his recently discovered bisexuality? She’d understand better than anyone, she would never judge him or give him a hard time, but once more the works hang from Dean’s tongue unable to make the final jump out into the world.

“It’s complicated,” he whispers. “I think I’m… in love.”

With inhuman effort, Charlie raises her head. Her hair is all over the place, eyes barely open, her eyebrows high in surprise. Dean can’t help but smile at the sight of her extremely tired but shocked face. He waits for Charlie to make a joke, to tease him or something, because Dean frigging Winchester in love? That’s a new one. 

But instead Charlie gives him a soft, rather sweet smile, kisses his cheek and rests her head back on his chest.

“I’m happy for you, you deserve it,” she mumbles, her tiny figure snuggling against his. “Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t know that.”

Stunned by the depth of her words, Dean lays in bed in silence with his eyes open staring at the ceiling. It’s true, of course it’s true, and he struggles with the idea of deserving Cas at the same time as he tries to tell himself that he  _ is _ enough; after all he is a caring, loving person, smart enough to have earned a scholarship, and he is a handsome devil as well. And yet there’s something inside him that fights the idea of being worthy of Castiel, this practically perfect person. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, where his insecurities come from, but he thinks back of Lisa and what went wrong with them. Nothing really happened, he could just never take that extra step with her, never thought they’d end up together, not because she wasn’t good enough but because Dean just couldn’t imagine himself in that position. He can’t imagine himself being happily ever after with a perfect match, he feels almost guilty for trapping someone with the mess that he is. Cas could have anyone he wanted, why would Dean limit him?

He takes a deep breath, concentrating in Charlie’s even breathing as she sleeps. It's relaxing.

Very shyly, as if he were afraid that his own mind would yell at him in disapproval, he thinks,  _ you deserve it. You deserve someone good. _

He tries to see it, a future with Cas. Maybe not forever, maybe not into marriage because who knows what the future has in store for them, but for a while. He imagines being loved by him, he images Castiel kissing him at 4 am when he comes back from the bathroom as if Dean needed a reminder that he was there next to him. He imagines Cas smiling at his joke, happy with Dean’s presence for a long, long time. It warms his heart, the idea of meaning so much to someone. Dean thinks of Charlie, who so easily shares affection with him, of his best friend Benny who is always concerned about him, of his baby brother Sam who asks others to keep an eye on him when he’s not around. Dean can’t see what they see in him that makes him deserve so much love, but he can only hope that Cas will.

Dean kisses the top of Charlie’s head, closes his eyes and falls asleep almost immediately. 

They don’t get up until later that afternoon. It’s almost 2 pm when Benny wakes them up for a late, improvised lunch. They hang out for a while, Charlie laying on the couch almost falling back asleep while the boys sit on the ground, playing video games and chewing on sausages and potatoes, Benny’s favourite post drinking night food. Eventually she leaves and Dean finds his way back to his room. 

_ I should do homework,  _ he thinks and of course he ends up falling back into bed and grabbing his phone from his nightstand instead. Warm, tired and kinda happy, his thoughts shift towards Cas, so he shoots him a quick text.

> _ Wish you were here, I’d love to have you fuck me while I’m tired. I know you like it when I try to resist you but I really feel like just being used by you right now. _

He hits send and bites his lip, smiling. Laying face down hugging his pillow, he moves his hips slowly creating light friction between his groin and the bed. He thinks of Cas the entire time, images him approaching from behind to touch him and tease him, biting his shoulders to leave new marks. Castiel  _ loves _ to leave marks.

Dean’s phone buzzes as a new message comes in.

< _ What would you like me to do to you, pet? _

> _ Whatever you want, sir. Use me for your pleasure. _

Castiel doesn’t waste time responding in a series of quick messages.

< _ I’d fuck you so hard if you were in front of me _

< _ Fast, hard and deep _

< _ Shove your face down into the pillows _

< _ and drive all my weight into each thrust. _

Dean gulps, fully hard now, turning around on bed to lay on his back. A hand ventures underneath his boxers and he strokes himself lazily. Rather slowly, he awkwardly texts with one hand.

> _ You make me hard ridiculously easy. _

< _ Show me _

If only for a second, Dean hesitates, a tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him it’s never smart to send nudes in the 21st century, but then again it’s  _ Cas _ , not just some random stranger who might share his photos with the world without Dean’s permission. Pulling his jeans and boxers down, he grips himself and snaps a picture, then sends it to his dom. His heart beats fast in his chest, his cock throbs with excitement. Dean closes his eyes and imagines making out with Cas on bed, his dom holding him down by the wrists like they both like. Castiel likes to be in control, to subdue Dean, and his sub likes the weight pressing him down on the bed while Cas does what he wants with him. Every little detail, every thought of fucking Castiel drives Dean closer and closer to the edge.

< _ I’m hard thinking about holding your head and fucking your mouth, like the first time. Your mouth is perfect, all of you is. _

< _ Can’t wait to be back, can’t wait to see you and fuck you _

He’s going to over-analyse that later, Dean tells himself, but for the time being he enjoys the feeling of being wanted and desired by Cas, of being called perfect by the object of his desires. Planting his feet on the bed, he thrusts towards his hand, but it’s not as satisfying, not as fun, as if his usual partner were there with him.

> _ I really miss you inside me. _

_ Inside me, around me, next to me,  _ Dean thinks, but keeps that to himself.

< _ I’ll be back soon. I want you to cum thinking about me and send me another photo. _

It only takes Dean a couple of minutes to reach his orgasm, cum slipping through his fingers as he pants hard against the pillow, his mind flooded with the memory of blue eyes and chapped pink lips. He takes another picture of himself, throws the phone on the bed and stands up to clean himself. When he returns and checks the phone he finds a picture of Cas laying in bed, naked, touching himself. Even after seconds of cumming, Dean’s dick can’t help but react to it.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

He puts the phone down before he gets distracted again and finally gets down to study for a bit. 

That week he has a lot more free time without Cas there but his thoughts still wander a lot and he makes time here and there to text with him. On Tuesday Cas calls him before bed and they talk for an hour straight, about everything and anything. Dean lets him go on and on about the different panels he’s been to and the people he’s met, it’s all rather bothering but he likes the sound of Cas’ voice as he lays in bed with his eyes closed. It relaxes him, puts a smile on his face. Cas sounds tired but excited as well for being there. 

They make plans to go out for breakfast on Saturday as soon as Castiel lands. Dean wants to take him to his favourite diner, a place that is cheap enough that Dean can afford it but the food is decent enough that he doesn’t feel cheap taking Cas there. It’s not a date, they never call it that, but Dean really wants it to be.

A shy but steadily growing side of Dean’s brain starts to argue that it suspects Cas might also feel something for Dean. He’s different, he’s not just all about sex and thoughtless domination, he’s openly gentle with Dean too, and he’s told him, in one way or the other, that he misses Dean even though it’s only been a handful of days since they have been apart. Not wanting to get his hopes up, Dean tries to tell himself that’s just how Cas is, he’s a sweet guy after you get to know him, but the truth is Dean doesn’t really have much to compare with since he’s never seen the dom with other close friends to compare behaviours. 

Even though he knows  _ very damn well  _ that it is  _ not _ in his best interest to start daydreaming of what could be, Dean does, he 100% does. He wants to have  _ the talk _ and make it official, like 15 years old do; he wants to be certain of what they are, to call Cas his goddamn  _ boyfriend _ . But how to get there? That’s the main problem. He wishes it would just happen spontaneously, but instead he knows they will most likely have to talk about it because this wasn’t supposed to happen, the bet was supposed to last 2 months and then they were to part ways. Falling in love wasn’t in the plan, particularly not with someone Dean can’t talk about with other people, at least not for now… or  _ a while _ . 

Dean needed to be mature and brave for  _ once _ in his life, for  _ this  _ one person.

On Friday morning, Benny tells him there’s a party on Saturday and something just clicks in Dean’s mind. The entire way home after work that day he gives himself a prep-talk and makes a plan. He’s so hopeful,  _ almost _ certain that Cas will say yes, yet he’s terrified of failing. 

_ I’m going to do it,  _ he tells himself,  _ I’m going to do it, I will, I will, I  _ will _ , I’m  _ not _ going to chicken out! I’m going to take him out for breakfast on Saturday and I’m going to ask him to be my date to the party and he’s going to say yes and it’s going to be awesome. It’ll be fine. Yeah, he’s going to say yes. _

Dean swallows hard, pulling the car over in front of his place.

_ Well, I’m like 85% sure he’s going to say yes… _

By the time he reaches the door, it goes down to 80%, but he still thinks his chances are pretty good.

Absentmindedly he makes his way towards his room, not really noticing the light coming from underneath the door. He opens the door and almost immediately gets pulled into a tight bear hug.

“Hey, Dean! Surprise!” his younger brother says happily. 

Dean blinks a couple of times, completely taken aback, before he hugs his brother back, patting his back a couple of times before he pulls away.

“What are you doing here?” he deadpans sounding a little more worried than happy to see Sam. His brother picks up on his tone and his smile falters a little.

“I thought I’d come out and pay you a visit. Benny said you’ve been acting weird and I just- was worried about you,” he shrugs a little shily. “Is it a bad time?”

Dean’s heart drops at the sight of his brother’s sad puppy eyes.

“No! No, no, sorry, you just caught me off guard. Come here!” Dean pulls Sam into another hug and he means it when he holds his brother in his arms with love but at the same time he can’t help the tiny panic rising in his chest; worst timing  _ ever _ to have a surprise visit, how the hell is he going to sneak away to see Cas tomorrow morning? He'll have to cancel and he  _ really _ doesn't want to, not know that he has finally convinced himself to ask Castiel out on a proper date. “How come you’re here? I thought mom and dad couldn’t afford your trip yet.”

“I’ve been working part time at the movie theater,” his brother explains with a proud little grin.

Dean frown. “When did that happen? You never told me that.”

“Because I wanted to surprise you.”

“Cool,” Dean mutters under his breath, nodding a couple of times with a strained smile on his face.

_ Fuck. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _! _

Sam eyes him suspiciously as he sits back on the bed. “You  _ are _ acting weird. Is this about your girlfriend Cas?”

A shiver runs down Dean’s spine as he hears his brother speak of Cas. He’s somewhat afraid that he knows the name, that he might learn Dean’s in love with a man, but at the same time there’s something really uncomfortable, almost offensive, about Sam, of all people, assuming instantly Cas  _ must be _ a woman. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” Dean states with absolute honesty.

His brother rolls his eyes. “Whatever you want to call it, Dean.”

_ Boyfriend,  _ Dean thinks,  _ I want to call him my boyfriend. _

The siblings just stare at each other. Sam extends his arms out and shrugs, waiting for Dean to say something. “Well?”

“Well what?” Dean asks defensively, turning his back on his brother as he pretends to clean around. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s up with Cas or not? You never explained to me what happened that night you drunk-texted me.”

Dean stops the thoughts and memories of that night before he can even begin to think about  _ him _ . He does  _ not _ want to remember that place, that fucking weird man…

“And I never will, Sammy. Trust me, you  _ don’t _ want to know.”

Dean hears his brothers footsteps approaching him before he even feels Sam’s hands on his shoulders, forcing him to turn around as Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Sam snatches the shirt Daan had picked up from the floor and throws it over his shoulder.

“Okay, stop, Dean. What’s going on with you? Is Cas not treating you right or what? Don’t confuse drama with happiness.”

Dean scoffs. “Don’t you quote Parks and Recreations to me,  _ I _ showed you that show!”

“Well, you’re not listening to me, so desperate times calls for desperate measures. Why won’t you talk to anyone about this? You were never this secretive about Lisa.”

“Because I didn’t care about her, alright?” Dean snaps. The brothers look at each other for a tense moment. Dean sighs again and averts his eyes. He walks past Sam and picks up the shirt from the floor again, then starts folding it over the bed. “I need time to figure this out, okay? It’s nerve-wracking enough without sharing my business with everybody.”

Expecting his brother to make some smartass retort and half-fearing that he might actually convince him to speak in the end, Dean waits for Sam to say something as he puts his clothes away back in the closet. But Sam doesn’t say anything and when Dean turns around, he is again sitting patiently in the edge of the bed.

“What, you’re done interrogating me?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Sam shrugs. “I can’t force you to talk to me and, I don’t know, I suppose I respect your reason to not say anything yet… but you’ll tell me about Cas eventually, won’t you?”

Dean hesitates, balancing on the tip of his toes for a second like a child with a secret while he considers coming clean about who his secret kind-of-boyfriend. “Yeah… I mean, if things go… right. If not, what’s the point?” he laughs nervously, but his heart tightens in his chest and that nausea comes back at the idea of Cas turning him down. 

If Castiel were his boyfriend, if they were  _ really _ together, then yes, Dean would have to (eventually) tell people that he’s bi. He doesn’t even want to imagine having  _ the talk _ with his parents, doesn’t think he’d have it in him to even do it. He would more likely just turn up with Cas one day and let them figure it out… But if it never gets to anything, then what’s the fucking point? To put himself out there, to admit he cared enough about Castiel to challenge his whole sexuality only to have his heart broken… that’s not something that sounds like much fun. If he’s going to suffer, he’d rather do it in private.

“Alright… Thanks.”

The brothers look at each other and nod in agreement. Sam looks like there’s a dozen things he really wants to say but bites his tongue back for Dean’s sake. Dean, realizing they’ve done nothing but bicker since he stepped into the room, softens a little, his shoulders coming down from their tense position. He extends a hand towards Sammy, who takes it without asking anything, and pulls him up from bed.

“Come on, let me buy ya some dinner. You came all this way for me after all, you big sap.”

“I worry about you, jerk,” Sam mutters, shoving his brother playfully as they walk out of the room.

“I love you too, bitch.”

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM, IT'S THE ENDING - BUT NOT QUITE!  
> There's a surprise bonus chapter coming soon done in collaboration with a dear friend of mine.  
> AGAIN, sorry it took me so long to post this, life's messy, huh?  
> Enjoy my darlings!

Dean has a great night with his younger brother. He takes him out to eat to his favourite diner in town; they have burgers and cheesecake for dessert. They talk for hours, Sam tells him everything about their home, their parents, the friends Dean left behind to move for school. It makes him so homesick but he wants to hear all about it. In the back of his mind he thinks he would love to take Cas there one day and show him all of Dean’s favourite spots; that one diner that sells _the_ best pies in the entire galaxy, the alley on the back of the movie theatre where Dean kissed a girl for the first time, the spot where teenagers go to make out by the river…

Sam and Dean stay up for hours, talking and playing video games like the good old days. A part of him wishes he was 17 years old again, back at his parents’ home, slacking around and hanging out with his little brother all the time; another part knows he is at a great place in life right now as well, with all his friends, a great career ahead of him and being in love for the first time ever.

All night he fights the urge to talk about Cas. It’s almost painful to keep a secret from Sam, they’ve always told each other everything and even though Sam is the youngest he’s always been the voice of reason in his life when Dean did stupid things or took poor decisions. Sam has probably less relationship experiences than Dean and still he would probably be better at it.

They go to bed late, but Dean is anxious and awake as his brother starts to snore softly. He still hasn’t talked to Castiel, hasn’t told him they can’t meet up for breakfast. Dean still needs to pick him up at the airport though, he can’t just never appear and leave the other waiting on him. Cas could easily take a cab if Dean lets him know but he feels bad about it… and he just doesn’t want to not see Cas, he’s missed the annoying dom.

A wild idea occurs to him; why not go to breakfast with Cas _and_ Sam?

 _What could possibly go wrong?,_ he thinks rather ironically but is so tempted to get away with everything he wants that he knows almost right away he’s going to go through with it. The seed is planted in his mind and it grows like a wild weed until it's an impulse he can't say no to.

At some level he worries Sam will realise Castiel is Cas. It’s quite obvious, really, except people keep assuming _Cas_ is a girl. If they stay at an arm’s length it should be fine he supposes, although subconsciously he also feels a thrill at the thought of his brother finding out without the need of there being an awkward conversation about it. If people just knew, if Dean could just be without having to explain it to people, the how, when and why…

Early that morning he wakes Sam up, shaking him awake. Sam looks unpleasantly surprised by how early Dean is waking him up, considering how late they went to bed and how unusual it is for his older sibling to get up early on a weekend.

“I gotta pick up a friend at the airport, then I’m taking him for breakfast. You coming?”

A part of Dean almost hopes Sam will say no; he was looking forwards to Cas following through with his promise to touch him under the table. Perhaps he could even drop by at his dom’s for a quicky before heading back home. But Sam, not without huffing and puffing, gets up and follows him out of the bedroom.

Cas is right on time and waiting for Dean at the main entrance with his small suitcase next to him. He looks sleepy but Dean sees him smile from the distance the minute the blue eyed young man sees the Impala. Cas goes straight towards the passenger’s seat, only to jump back in surprise when he opens the door to find Sam.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I- who-?”

“Hey, I’m Sam, Dean’s brother. Do you want to go on the front?” Sam asks him, stretching out a hand towards Cas.

“Ah, I didn’t know you were joining us,” Castiel comments, sharing a quick questioning look of confusion with Dean that lasts barely a second. “I’m Castiel Novak.”

Sam grins like a maniac as they shake hands. “ _The_ Castiel Novak? Dean’s archenemy? I’ve heard a lot about you.” Sam turns around and elbows Dean on the ribs. “You never told me you were friends.”

Dean blushes as Castiel raises an eyebrow and suppresses a little mocking smirk.

“I think archenemy is a stretch, Sam-”

“No, I distinctly remember you using that word and I have heard you complain about him for literally _years_.”

“I’m flattered honestly,” Cas smirks as he moves towards the backseat, carefully making sure the wheels of his suitcase don’t touch the well cared for leather of Dean’s Baby; he knows how much Dean loves that car. “I’ve enjoyed making his life in the field miserable.”

Dean scoffs, turning around on his seat to stare at Castiel, faking to be offended. In reality, he is itching to learn forwards and kiss the almost-lawyer already.

“ _As if_ . You’re a good opponent but you’re not _that_ good.”

Castiel sits back and stares out the window, smiling to himself. “I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he says in a low and grave voice.

Sam laughs, oblivious to the double meaning in Castiel’s words. Dean, trying not to blush, turns back around to face the front again and drives them away. He’s a bit on edge at first, tense as his heart his full of expectations and his mind lists all the things that could go wrong, all the reasons why Cas and Sam might not get along. It’s important to him that Sam likes Castiel, he cannot imagine being with someone his brother doesn’t approve of. Would that make Dean like Cas less? Probably not but it would probably make him sad and a bit anxious.

He doesn’t even want to think of Cas meeting his _parents_ and what they might think of him. A shiver runs down his spine as he images himself trying to introduce a guy as his boyfriend to his father.

But just a few minutes into the ride the three of them are deep in conversation as if they had all known each other for years. Sam, an aspiring lawyer himself, is interested in everything and anything Cas has to say about studying law and recommendations for his application and first year. Dean threatens to have their father disinherit his brother if he applies for Dean’s rival school, but truly he’s very satisfied that the object of his affections and the brother he loves seem to be getting along just fine. They talk, they laugh, they joke around, and Dean is high with a joy that only Castiel’s presence makes him feel.

And still, despite how effortlessly things are working out almost perfectly, in the back of his mind a bit of guilt settles to disturb the peace. He wishes he didn’t have to lie to Sam about what he really feels for Cas, he wishes he could tell him, that he wasn’t such a coward.

Dean takes them to a little diner that sells apple pie, Cas’ favourite. The place is cozy but quite crowded and they wait a couple of minutes by the door while a family gets ready to leave. Dean keeps his hands on his pockets the entire time, just to make sure he won’t get tempted to reach out and grab Castiel’s. He’s so close, just a step of distance between them. Dean is almost on the tip of his toes eagerly leaning into Cas’ personal space, a smile frozen in place in his youthful face. When the waitress comes to show them to their booth, Dean slips into the seat next to his dom without thinking.

“So how come you two became friends?” Sam asks, curiously staring from one to the other. “Dean’s not usually one to change his mind about people. Or _anything_ , you’re so stubborn.”

“Hey!” the eldest Winchester protests, kicking Sam under the table. Sam jumps on his seat when Dean’s foot meets his leg, letting out a huff of pain before he kicks his brother right back.

“I chased your brother around until he realised how awesome I am,” Cas deadpans with a straight face.

Dean elbows him in the ribs and Cas breaks into a small giggle. 

“I’m just after your secret football strategies.”

“That’s the only way you could win, by cheating?”

Dean opens his mouth to protest then closes it again. “No, that’s- that’s not what I meant. And I did beat you, a _couple_ of times.”

Castiel frowns, pretending he’s thinking hard as he tries to remember. It infuriates Dean but also makes him like him so much more when he’s a little prick. “I cannot remember such a thing, it must be your imagination.”

Under the table Cas moves closer to him, leaning his leg against Dean’s. It’s a small gesture but Dean smiles to himself as he looks away.

The waitress comes and asks for their order. While Cas and Dean ask for individual pies and a stack of waffles to share, Sam asks for toasts and fruits which obviously gains a few teasing words from Dean.

“Come on, live a little, order some pancakes!” Dean says encouragingly. “It’s on me!”

“We had dessert yesterday. Unlike you, Dean, I plan to live past 40.”

Dean rolls his eyes at his brother and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He’s a bit surprised and both excited and nervous when Castiel does the same, saying he’s going to wash his hands before eating, and follows him to the bathroom at the back of the building. He expects the dom to make a move on him, to push him into a wall and then do God knows what to him, but Cas really just goes to wash his hands while Dean enters one of the stalls. He doesn’t hear him leave the bathroom though and when Dean comes back out, Cas is waiting for him, looking a little sleepy, silently leaning against a wall.

For a moment their eyes meet. The silence is not tense but is surely charged with something Dean can’t quite figure out. He kind of blushes and looks down.

Dean breaks the silence first.

“I’m sorry we won’t get to spend the morning at your apartment like we planned.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Dean, I know your brother means a lot to you. It’s nice he surprised you with a visit.” 

“Thanks…” Dean gives him a thankful smile, walking towards him while he dries his hands with some paper. He throws the paper in the trashcan next to Castiel and crowds him against the wall, not really caring for a second that someone could walk in and see them. Cas smiles at him, hands reaching out to touch his arms, both young men comfortable and familiar with each other’s touch by now. “But a bet is a bet, you could have tried to fuck me in the bathroom. You’re being very civilized.”

Cas laughs.

“Did you want me to fuck you in the bathroom?” he asks, his lips close enough to brush against Dean’s but not really kissing him, their noses touching softly. Pressed up against Castiel, lost in his eyes, Dean can barely think of anything but his physical needs and the masculine yet soft smell of his crush.

He shrugs and stammers, “hmm, kinda, yeah. I- I would have let you.”

His dom bites his lip, the corners of his mouth curving up into a pleased smile. Oh, how Dean missed that bloody cocky smile. 

“If you truly feel at fault, I could punish you. Let’s say… we extend your punishment for another two weeks?”

A flutter of excitement erupts in Dean’s stomach; two more weeks! Two more sure weeks of sleeping with Cas, kissing him, touching him. 

_Fuck yes!_

“Seems fair,” Dean states, trying to seem cool. In the inside, his mind is chanting loud cheers of victory and joy. He’s trying so hard to hold back a wide, happy smile that reflex how he truly feels. “Now let’s go or my brother will get suspicious.”

Dean grabs Cas’ hand and begins to drag him towards the door but his dom closes it again as soon as Dean tries to open it, spins him around and pushes him against the wall to kiss him hard and fast. Dean is stunned and breathless, not to mention seriously turned on, by the time Cas pulls away and leaves him standing alone in the bathroom.

Breakfast is great, it is absolutely everything Dean wanted it to be. This is how Dean would have imagined introducing Sam to a girlfriend one day, to a very special one; if only Sam could understand how important that moment is for Dean, how meaningful, and yet it is a secret within Dean himself because not even Cas knows how he really feels. This, the three of them sitting together in this little corner of the world, means everything to him, it’s the coming together of the two of his favourite people in the entire world.

By the time they are done and leaving, Dean feels so happy he could break into a lame dance. They drive Castiel home and it sort of pains Dean to have to say goodbye again so soon, but he can’t really bring himself to be sorry about spending the weekend with his brother either.

With the excuse of helping a tired Cas with his luggage, Dean leaves his brother waiting in the car while he walks Castiel up to his apartment. Leaning against the doorway while Cas drags his feet inside the apartment and lets his duffle bag drop into the ground with sigh while looking truly exhausted and ready for a nap, Dean prepares himself to make _the_ move for that night. Sam or no Sam, Dean _has_ to tell Castiel how he feels or he will explode.

“Hey, I was kinda hoping you’d join us at a party tonight, we’re all going, the gang, Sammy... Watcha say?”

Cas takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his already very messy hair. He pauses for a second and Dean’s confidence falters. What if he is pushing it too much? Are things too domestic for Cas what with meeting Dean’s brother and having a normal breakfast out? What if he wasn’t really cool with it but was just being nice about it since it was a surprised? What if-

 _Stop overthinking, stop overthinking, shut up!_ Dean orders himself.

“Would you hate me if I say no?” Cas asks, grimacing a little bit with guilt. “I’m _really_ tired. The whole trip was more exhausting than I’d thought.”

Dean’s stomach sinks. He can tell Cas how he feels another time, of course he can, it’s just that now that he is ready, he can almost feel the countdown in his mind, that of his confidence running out of time. With every second that he tells himself he wants Castiel, truly wants to _be with him_ , he spends the same amount of time finding potential reasons for things not to work out between them in the end. The sooner he tells Cas, the less time he has to list all the things that could go wrong, all the reasons why the other deserves better than Dean.

“Oh. Okay, yeah, no problem. I’ll… see you around then.”

Then he nods and takes a few steps away, fumbling with the keys of the car on his hand, doing his best to not look crushed by the fall of his expectations.

“Dean,” Cas calls him, moving towards him fast before he has a chance to make a quick exit. His crush touches his arm gently and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s so tender it has Dean blushing even though they have done far more than that before. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you for picking me up. And breakfast too. I really enjoyed it.”

“See ya, Cas.”

When faced with no other option, the disappointment is easier to deal with. _I’ll do it another day,_ Dean tells himself, sighing internally, _when Sammy’s gone, that’s probably for the best anyway._ With a newfound goal to dedicate all his time to Sam for real, he tries to push Castiel to the back of his mind and enjoy the limited time he has with his baby brother. He tells their friends they’ll show up at the party on their own, turns his phone off and dedicates every conscious thought to Sam. It works, actually, and as the hours go by he knows he was right by missing him and thinking Sam would know how to make things better. They walk around town, grab a quick lunch, talk about their parents and Sam’s plans for the future. It gives Dean an odd mix of pride and melancholy to think Sam’s about to exit school himself, it feels like an end of a big era even for Dean. The eldest Winchester shares his own hopes for the future as well, admits he would like to do a Master’s but is afraid his grades won’t be good enough for a scholarship. Sam encourages him to apply anyway, reminds Dean that he never gives himself enough credit even though he always pulls through everything he sets his mind out to do.

After dinner, they head together to the party, not even bothering to change clothes; neither of them, after all, is looking to impress anyone and score that night. Having spent all his day talking about childhood memories and sweet plans for their future, Dean is happy, oh so very happy, with the feeling of being at home that only a loved one can bring you when you’re actually far away from everything familiar to you. His soul is recharged with everything that is good. He smiles to himself, AC/DC blasting in his ears while Sam complains about the volume as they drive to the party. Just when he thinks the weekend will prove to be awesome, Cas or no Cas, Sam manages to make himself heard over the music.

“Hey, look, it’s your friend! Pull over, let’s give them a ride.”

Dean nearly does bring the car to a stop as he carefully takes a look in the rear-view mirror, but his stomach sinks when he sees Cas walking with a red-haired, very damn pretty girl. She has an arm hooked around his, they’re laughing.

 _He doesn’t look tired to me,_ is Dean’s first stupid thought.

Oh, the jealousy he feels is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Heart poisoned with resentment, he speeds up over the limit and drives away.

“I think we’d better not interrupt him,” he grumbles.

Sam eyes him with confusion for a moment, an eyebrow raised in question, and Dean tries to get his emotions in check. He forces a smile to his lips, trying to relax again and not hold the steering wheel so tight but as much as he tries to get the image of Cas and that girl out of his brain he feels his body hard with tension.

Castiel has the right, after all, to be with whoever he wants to. They never said they were exclusive, no promises were made, it wouldn’t be fair for Dean to be mad at him for going out with other people. But it’s the _lying_ that upsets him the most. If Cas wanted to be with someone else instead of going to the party, he should have just told Dean instead of saying he was too tired to go out. Dean would have liked to know, he probably would have tried harder to be wiser about his feelings if he’d been aware from the start that Novak was seeing other people at the same time.

He’s mad at himself, so damn mad, for reading into things so terribly wrong. Dean thought the signs were pretty clear, he was so _sure_ for a moment there that something was up between them, something more than just kinky sex. All those tender touches, the gentle kisses, the comfortable silences and the phone calls, they had meant something to Dean and he thought they’d meant something for Cas too. As demanding as the dom was in bed, he’d seemed sweet and interested, _really_ interested in Dean too. But now he’s feeling like an idiot, torn with confusion, used, anxious as he needs to pretend for long hours at a party that he’s not re-examining the past weeks very quickly over his head to see where the hell he got it so wrong.

As they enter the already crowded house, Sam elbows him and leans closer to him to speak over the loud music.

“Are you alright?” he yells over the beat of some lame pop song. 

Dean waves his worries off with a hand and avoids meeting his brother's eyes as he looks for his friends in a sea of young adults in the first stages of getting drunk.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t love big crowds like this,” he lies. He spots Benny, Charlie and Jo in the distance and points towards them. “Look, my friends are over there. I’m going to look for some beers-”

“I’m not old enough to drink,” Sam protests.

Dean rolls his eyes and snaps, perhaps a bit too harshly, “no one’s gonna ask you for ID, Sam, don’t be a buzzkill.”

He leaves Sam before his brain catches up with itself and he can feel guilty for being a little mean to Sam on top everything else that is going on in his mind. Trying hard not to wonder what Cas is up to with that girl tonight, he makes his way to the dining room, the table full of beers waiting for him with an open invitation. He finds the host of the house, exchanges a few words with him and gives him some money for the beers. Dean tries to let go of his worries and fit in with the joyful atmosphere, even plays along when he gets introduced to some girls, winking to one of them but knowing deep inside he doesn’t really want to do anything about it. He doesn’t want anyone but Castiel.

A few minutes later, downing half his beer on the way, he finally gets to his friends. Jo turns to him when he arrives, looking disappointed for a second as she looks around.

“Where’s Cas?” she asks.

Sam gasps, looking close to genuinely offended at the thought of his brother introducing his first real partner to Jo and not him, and says, “hey, how come Jo met Cas and not me?”

Dean’s stomach drops and he just stares back at Sam, petrified. 

“Didn’t you meet him this morning?” Benny asks, confused.

Sam suddenly facepalms himself way too hard. “Cas?” he repeats, eyes wildly going back and forwards between his brother and Benny. “As in _Castiel_?”

Benny frowns, more confused than before. “Yeah, who else?”

“He didn’t come with you?” Jo intervenes again, still looking around the room as if the handsome dom would suddenly materialize.

Charlie rolls her eyes at her. “Stop trying to hit on Cas, Jo.”

“But he’s so dreamy,” she sighs. 

“I heard he’s taken.”

Sam’s eyes, which are frozen in Dean, are wide open. Dean wordlessly hands him his beer. He can practically hear Sammy’s thoughts, the questions he is yelling at Dean telepathically. 

Blushing hard, he averts his eyes. “Yeah, well, we saw him with a girl just now so I don’t know, Cas is a bit… promiscuous.”

Jo huffs a laugh. “Look who's talking.”

“Dean, can I speak to you for a moment?” Sammy says, his voice a little higher than usual and barely just in check.

Before Dean has the chance to say no, Jo’s face lights up and she points towards the door. “Look, it’s Cas!” Then her smile drops. “Oh, you’re right, he _is_ with someone.”

Dean can’t help but turn around to watch Castiel coming in, the pretty girl still walking close to him, absolutely comfortable and familiar up and close against him. Dean can physically feel the jealousy stirring his guts. He looks away and, unfortunately, into Sam’s hilarious maniac face. He’s almost bursting with the need to have a conversation he very well knows can’t be held in front of Dean’s friends.

“Dean, _a word_?” Sam hisses under his breath.

His older brother hesitates. He wants to say no, _of course_ he wants to say no; of all the ways he had considered coming out to his brother, during a heartbreak at a very public place had never been one of the options. But as Castiel draws near with his date still holding onto his arm, he desperately needs an excuse to make an exit, anything to _not_ be introduced to the girl that’s also sleeping with the dom he has strong feelings for.

With a reluctant sigh that becomes a grunt towards the end, he gestures with his head for his brother to follow him and they again make their way through the mass of people, out the back door and into the back yard. He finishes his beer in one anxious, big sip and lets the cool air hug him. He keeps walking and walking past the guests, until they are in the furthest possible dark corner, away from ears that aren’t supposed to hear what he’s about to confess too.

He takes a deep breath for courage, closes his eyes for a second and finally turns around to face his brother. Sam is just standing there in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, eyes watchful but patiently.

After a couple of seconds go by with none of them speaking a word, Sam finally breaks the silence.

“Well?”

Dean groans, changing his weight from one foot to the other, his cheeks burning hot in the dark. “Are you really going to make me say it?” he groans.

“Jesus, Dean! Are you going to make _me_ say it?”

Running a hand down his face slowly, Dean just looks at his little brother almost pleadingly as if they could just have the conversation in their heads without the need for actual words. But Sam’s not having it.

“How long?”

“Almost two months.”

“ _How_?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

Sam opens his mouth to ask, then seems to think twice about it and closes it again. The Winchester brothers stare at each other for a second. Dean knows it’s fine, that Sam’s never going to judge him for something like that, he’s young, progressive and open-minded, but there’s still something immensely thankful in Dean’s heart when his sibling’s face softens with something like pity and compassion.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Dean?”

Dean shrugs, hands coming down to rest at his sides in defeat.

“I don’t know, man, what was I supposed to say?”

“You never had a problem talking to me about girls.”

“It’s different, _Cas_ is different.”

“Because you’re in love with him.”

Normally he would roll his eyes and tell Sam he’s being a sap, but this time he just stares back pathetically at him, lost for words.

“Does he know?”

This time, Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, like I’m going to tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Did you _not_ see that hot chick he’s with? Does it look like he’s ready to settle down?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Dean, they could just be friends.”

“They look pretty cozy to me,” Dean grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest like an angry kid and kicking the grass.

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and stares up at the sky. “Honestly, Dean, it’s so obvious he’s in love with you I can’t believe I even need to point it out. I mean, I thought you _knew_ but you were being kind to your friend and pretending to be oblivious, but apparently you’re just too dense to realize your own value.”

“Hey!” Dean protests, a little confused as to whether he should take that as a compliment or an offense.

“Dean, I swear to God, if you don’t go back in there and talk to Cas like a goddamn adult, I will.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Sam puts on his best resting bitch face and holds his ground with his hands on his hips like a pissed off parent. Dean starts to feel himself panic under the spotlight, but there’s also a buzz of excitement growing in his stomach. He was planning, after all, to speak to Cas today. The possibility is there again, almost an obligation now, and maybe this is the final push he needed, delivered by no other than the best and most annoying brother ever.

“You really think he’s into me like that?” Dean asks a little more softly, finally showing a side of him he rarely ever lets people see.

“He only has eyes for you and it’s gross but also… kinda sweet,” Sam says with a gentle smile.

Dean takes a deep breath for courage and starts jumping from one foot to the other.

“Okay, I’m gonna do it.”

His brother’s face breaks into a surprised smile. “ _Really?_ That _really_ worked?”

Dean pushes past his brother, punching him softly in the shoulder as he goes. “Don’t ruin it, sasquatch,” he mumbles with fake animosity.

Together they march back inside to rejoin the group of friends they’d awkwardly left behind. Castiel and his date had joined them. When Dean meets Cas’ eyes from the distance and his dom’s face lights up like a child being presented with a surprise gift, he is a bit too lost in the butterflies he feels in his stomach to notice Benny leaning a bit too close into the redhead’s personal space. Trying to be discreet, Dean gestures towards the stairs with his head and makes his way towards the first floor hoping Cas will understand he wants to be followed. He waits at the top of the stairs, greeting some guests as they past him on their way back to the party, until he sees Cas following him up. Before the dom can reach him, Dean reaches for a door to one of the rooms but hears noises coming from within so he continues to the next one. It’s a bathroom and it's free. He opens the door and turns his head to see if Cas is still following him; he’s right behind him and practically pushes Dean into the room, shutting the door close behind them with a kick. 

Castiel has his hands all over him, kissing him hungrily as he pushes Dean against the sink. He leaves no space between them, pressing their groins together. He cups Dean’s ass with one hand while the other ventures down his shirt to pinch a nipple.

"Dude, this- this isn't what I had in- ah, fuck, in mind!" Dean struggles to say with a serious tone as Cas continues to explore his body. They’re both getting hard fast and as much as Dean doesn’t want it to stop, it needs to if they’re going to discuss feelings.

"Really?" Cas asks, tone charged with want next to his ear. "Because it's all I could think of this past week."

Dean doesn't know whether to be glad to hear that or if he should be worried all Castiel can think about is sex.

 _Come on, that's not what he meant… most likely,_ Dean thinks to himself encouragingly.

Cas palms Dean through his jeans and squeezes playfully, gaining an involuntary gasp of pleasure from Dean.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, frat boy. God, I really wasn't going to  come but fuck, I missed you.”

Before things can go any further, just as Castiel is trying to undo the buttons of Dean’s pants, the other finally finds his determination and voice and stops Cas, laying gentle but firm hands on him to pull him away.

“Stop,” he whispers and his dom, however eager he had seemed a second ego, stops all his advances at one and takes a step back. The look of utter concern and confusion is crystal clear on his face.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, looking adorably guilty. Dean’s heart skips a beat at how honestly upset Cas seems to be with the idea of hurting Dean in any way, even accidentally. 

 _He cares about me,_ a hopeful voice inside of Dean whispers from the back of his mind.

“I just-” Dean swallows. He feels a pressure on his chest, a ball of feelings; anticipation, nerves, eagerness, now sexual attraction too, affection, fear… “Dude, you’ve got a chick waiting for your downstairs,” he says instead of what he really wants to talk about, which is a hopeless and honest _I love you!_

Cas blinks stupidly a couple of times, frowning. He moves his weight from one feet to the other, absentmindedly adjusting the notorious tent in his pants.

“Who, Jo? I’m not into her and I clearly remember you asking me not to fuck your friends.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, dumbass, I mean the redhead you brought.”

It takes Cas a second to react but when he finally does, a cheeky teasing smile slowly grows on his lips and, crowding Dean against the sink again with their bodies pressed up together in a way that feels comforting instead of sexual this time, he leans forwards and asks in a low voice, “Dean Winchester, are you _jealous_?”

Dean rolls his eyes just to have an excuse to avert his eyes in an attempt to hide the true answer to that question, but the instant blush on his cheeks betrays him and gives him away. Castiel giggles rather adorably, his body vibrating happily against Dean’s. Dean wants to punch him _and_ kiss him.

“I just don’t think it’s fair to her if you sneak around with me, jackass.”

Obviously not buying a word he’s saying (Cas is becoming a lawyer after all, Dean should have remembered his dom will be in the business of detecting people’s bullshit for a living), Cas nods and bites his lower lip. “Sure, sure…” he says in a serious tone, trying to keep a straight face and bite back a smile, “it’s just that even if my _cousin_ Anna and I were into incest, I think she’s got her eyes on Benny tonight.”

“Your cousin?”

“Oh, don’t look _so_ relieved, Dean!” he giggles.

Dean kicks him playfully, but even despite the embarrassment he also feels undoubtedly lighter, the weight of his jealousy lifting off his shoulders and melting away like a bad dream.

Cas gives him a chaste peck on the lips and, without breaking the distance between them, whispers against his lips, “you’re an idiot, Dean.”

His tone is gentle in constant with the words he speaks. His hands cup Dean’s face and they kiss slowly, _sweetly_ , and for a moment the noise from downstairs fades away and instead of in a random bathroom Dean is in heaven. He wants the moment to last forever.

When Castiel breaks the kiss, he doesn’t move away at all, lingering in their shared space, breathing in each other’s air. Dean wouldn’t have let him moved even if he’d tried anyway.

“It’s been said a few times,” Dean jokes nervously as his heart hammers against his chest. It’s so frantic he’s sure Cas can feel it where his hands still hold Dean. 

This is it, he knows it, the moment he had been waiting for...

“You’re a needy boy, aren’t you?” Cas whispers, moving the tip of his nose tenderly against Dean’s. His dom closes his eyes and smiles happily to himself, sharing the peace Dean feels inside when they’re together. 

Dean puts his arms around him, seeking to touch as much of Cas as possible. He could watch the young lawyer like this forever, so beautiful, so affectionate.

“You’re _my_ needy boy,” Cas whispers, “mine and only mine.”

Cas’ fingers softly tracing their way up and down Dean’s arms, Dean thinks his heart is going to burst with love.

He licks his lips nervously and dares to finally say, “then you’re mine too and _only_ mine.”

Cas looks up, all the love and adoration clear in his eyes like Dean has never allowed himself to see before, and he smiles even before he speaks. “I've always been yours, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, however short, and kudos are always much appreciated.


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